Oracle
by All Mighty Terrestrial
Summary: Finished and Reformatted. 1st X Files Story, PLEASE R and R. Takes place after the Gift. Doggett and Scully investigate the death of a man turned to stone. Meanwhile, Doggett gains additional insight into Mulder's character...
1. Gotta start with a casefile, right?

Disclaimers: Any characters or situations from the show aren't mine, they belong the the 1013   
consortium. As to the rest of it, any resemblance to any person, place or thing, whether living,  
dead or undead, is all in your head, because I made them up. I also claim no knowledge of   
anything techinical, medical, mechanical, logical or anything else ending in 'cal'.   
  
Reposting: Anywhere, so long as I get all the credit.  
  
Episode references in this part (For those of you who like that sort of thing): Fight the   
Future, Field Trip, Monday, Home, Pilot, Aubrey, Blessing Way, Shadows, Squeeze, Pusher, Clyde  
Bruckman's Final Repose, Drive, Requiem. All others cover multiple episodes.   
  
Let the flames begin!! Review@littleboxonthebottom.send  
  
  
  
Oracle pt. 1   
  
I had the strangest dream last night. I was sitting on my couch and heard a knock. When I   
went to go answer the door Agent Scully was there. I remember asking her what was wrong and   
she told me she was being transferred. I was devastated, telling her she couldn't quit and   
that we were "on the verge." (On the verge of what?)   
  
Scully said something snippy like she usually does, then her face softened. She told me that   
she was just holding me back, that I didn't need her, that all she was meant to do was rein me   
in and shut me down. (Isn't that what you think I'm doing to you?)   
  
I remember getting indignant and telling her, "But you saved me. As--as difficult and as   
frustrating as it's been sometimes, your god dammed strict rationalism and science have saved   
me a thousand times over. You've kept me honest. You've made me a whole person. I owe you   
everything; Scully, and you owe me nothing. I don't know if I want to do this alone. I don't   
even know if I can." (That last bit seemed overly sentimental, and completely out of character  
for me.)  
  
Just then, the phone rang and woke me up. I pulled myself out of my covers and fumbled around   
on my nightstand until I found the receiver.   
  
"Yeah, this is John Doggett," I mumbled.   
  
"You're not coming in to work today?" Agent Scully answered crisply. (Slacker, I could hear in  
her voice.)   
  
I pawed around on the nightstand for my watch, and cursed under my breath when I saw the time.  
  
"Yeah, I'll be there in a few minutes, " I said to her.   
  
"Are you sick? (Do you want a transfer?)"   
  
"I'll be there." Can't wait to get rid of me, can you?   
  
"Fine. (Damn it.) I'll have some coffee waiting for you. (I'll cover for your sorry ass, but  
this is the last time.)"   
  
I'll bet Agent Mulder got that tone day in and day out.   
  
"Good bye, Agent Scully," I said in what I hoped was a polite tone.   
  
I put the phone back in the cradle and reflected briefly on my dream and subsequent phone   
conversation.   
  
"Whole person, my ass," I announced to my nightstand as I walked off to the bathroom.   
  
  
I had just finished getting dressed when the phone rang again.   
  
"Change of plans," Agent Scully announced. "Pack a suitcase and meet me at the airport.   
Aaair-Porrrrt. That's spelled A I R P O R T.) We've been assigned a new case (which is total   
bullshit.) That's Trans Continental Airlines flight 507 to Omega, California. (You need me to  
repeat that?) That's in the south -east terminal (if you aren't smart enough to find it   
yourself). The flight leaves in three hours (that's this many fingers.)"   
  
"I'll be there." Bite me, Scully.   
  
She made a little noise that indicated she caught my tone and hung up. I smiled a little to   
myself as I folded my socks neatly in my suitcase. Who says partners don't communicate? Hold   
your horses,Scully, I'll be there soon and then we can build a tower of furniture.   
  
I paused, holding one of my shirts in my hand. Where did that come from? I racked my brain,   
and came up with training seminar. That must have been it, some cooperation seminar from when   
I was still a rookie. I folded my shirt and put it in the suitcase. Strange the things you   
remember.  
  
  
I found the terminal easily, despite Agent Scully's apparent fears. She was standing next to a  
post, looking frazzled. I was a little surprised; Agent Scully is usually so composed.   
  
"You ever have one of those days?" she said by way of greeting.   
  
Only since I've been working here. I glanced at the case folder she was holding and her look of  
righteous indignation.   
  
"The X Files aren't fulfilling for you anymore, Agent?"   
  
She snorted and said, "Not ones like this," handing me the folder.   
  
I skimmed it. "Thirty year old male, history of suicide attempts, burns to death at a party.   
Coroner rules it a suicide, but the family insists it was spontaneous human combustion," I said.  
  
I glanced up at Agent Scully. They can't be serious.   
  
Scully exploded, "How could it not be suicide? The body was doused in enormous amounts of  
gasoline, and the man's medical records show he was hospitalized for burn treatment after each   
of his previous attempts." She took a deep breath, let it out in a sigh, and continued in a   
long -suffering tone, "However,we have been assigned this case and we do need to go and   
complete some semblance of an investigation." She looked up at me and said apologetically,   
"I'm sorry to ruin your weekend with something this silly, but... (Sorry I snapped at you on   
the phone. It's not your fault we got sent on this wild goose chase.)"   
  
"That's all right, Agent," I answered dutifully.   
  
Still, I couldn't keep from feeling impatient. I was assigned to find Agent Mulder, not go   
chasing after lights in the sky. Or in this case, at a barbeque.   
  
Agent Scully acknowledged my attempt at reassurance with an absentminded nod. I felt both pity  
and respect for her. She spends every day trying to run things the way Agent Mulder would so   
that the world will be the way he remembers when we find him. As if anything could be the same,  
especially with their baby on the way. She must think I'm blind not to notice, but I can't   
step in and offer to help (although I would like to), since she hasn't seen fit to confide in   
me. She has Skinner to help her through this, of course, and probably some friends and family   
I don't know about, but it makes me wonder what else I should know and what I have to do to   
earn the trust it takes to learn it.   
  
I watched the plane taxi toward us through the terminal window. One of the ticket takers threw  
open the door and ran down the ramp before the plane was even up to the gate. Then there was a   
commotion from the end of the terminal opposite the gate. "Agent," I said, getting Agent   
Scully's attention.   
  
  
A paramedic crew rushed by, bumping into me on the way to the ramp where our flight was   
stopping. There were panicked passengers trying to fight their way out of the plane while the   
medics were trying to fight their way in. Agent Scully took charge of the situation, flashing   
her F.B.I. badge and pushing people out of the way of the team.   
  
"I'm a medical doctor. Do you know what happened?"   
  
"Some guy on board the plane had a heart attack," the younger of the two paramedics explained.  
  
I followed in Agent Scully's wake down the ramp. "That wouldn't explain this kind of   
hysteria..." I could hear her say faintly above the noise of the crowd.   
  
The man was lying on his back in the attendant's station at the front of the plane and a woman   
was leaning against the wall, sobbing uncontrollably. The attendants were lining the edges of   
the station, trying to comfort the woman without touching the man. I guess she was his   
girlfriend.  
  
I kept the passengers moving while Agent Scully and the paramedics examined the man. One of   
paramedics cursed and jumped back. Agent Scully leaned forward and examined the man more   
closely.   
  
"Agent Doggett," she said, motioning me over.   
  
I looked at the man. He was dead, butI didn't see anything that would have gotten that kind of  
reaction from a trained paramedic. Agent Scully motioned for me to touch the body, so I did.   
The tissue was hard. The man had been turned to solid stone.  
  
*********************************************************************************************  
  
Agent Doggett stayed behind at the airport to question the man's girlfriend and secure us case  
jurisdiction while I went with the body to the morgue. It took the help of the paramedics, the  
flight attendants, and the ticket counter staff for me to lift the body and carry it to where   
the ambulance was waiting. According to the identification we found in his wallet, the victim   
was one Doctor Adam Gray of Omega, California, an employee at Danning Biotechnologies.   
  
I scrubbed up while the paramedics were raising the body onto the autopsy table with a couple   
of car jacks they managed to procure from god knows where. I requested that they leave the   
jacks and watched them as they laughed and joked all the way out the door.   
  
I looked from the autopsy tools to the body and back again. Yeah, that'll work, Mulder's   
sardonic voice said from the back of my mind. God, I could almost see him... I bit my lip and  
pushed the thought away. Then I pulled the mike down from the ceiling, took a deep breath, and  
began.   
  
"Autopsy performed by Agent Dana Scully on one Dr. Adam Gray, male, aged 39, weight," I took in  
the sagging autopsy table, which was groaning ominously, "1,000 pounds in extremis. Body   
tissue appears to be healthy, if solidified. Cause of solidification unknown, nothing else   
notable about the exterior of the body." I paused and studied the body again. "I am unsure as  
to whether the circular saw will work on this particular individual, or whether dynamite will   
be necessary."   
  
I went to go ask the attendant whether he had access to a diamond bladed chain saw. Behind me,  
the autopsy table collapsed.  
  
  
Doggett came by after I finished separating the body. He took in the collapsed table, the car   
jacks and me attempting to haul the intestines back into the body in a single glance. \  
  
"Find anything interesting, Agent?" he said.   
  
Funny, Doggett. Then I looked up at his face and realized he wasn't kidding. I opened my   
mouth, closed it, then gave myself a little shake and started speaking.   
  
"All of the body's organs have been solidified. There appears to be no fluid in the body, but   
that may have solidified as well. Mummification completely drains the body of fluid, but that   
process takes months and leaves the body brittle, not hard as granite."  
  
"Could this have been caused by exposure to a chemical of some sort?"   
  
"The state of the body makes it next to impossible to run a toxicological."   
  
Which should be completely obvious to you. I thought I saw a flicker of a smile cross his face.  
  
"Why do you ask?" I said with a touch of impatience.   
  
"Well, the company that Dr. Gray works at does develop medical treatments.Perhaps he was   
exposed to an experimental chemical during the course of his work that you are unaware of."   
  
"It's possible," I said carefully, keeping my face neutral. There was a long pause, in which I  
tried to read his expression. Failing at that, I asked, "So, you did get some information from  
his girlfriend?"   
  
"Her name is Michelle Laker. She waitresses at a restaurant near the facility. She and Dr.   
Gray had been dating since college, and they were scheduled to make their connecting flight   
from D.C. to Paris, where they were going to be married. He didn't tell her much about the   
project he was assigned to, other than it was classified and he was in charge of looking after   
the test subjects. Apparently it was one of the premiere projects at the facility, or at least  
that's the way he told it." His tone was mild, a little cool perhaps?   
  
"Did you get an account of Dr. Gray's death?" Like you were supposed to?   
  
He gave me a look that I was able to identify as irritated (What do you think I've been doing?  
Sightseeing?) and said, "She claims that he was complaining of muscle aches and having a little  
trouble breathing. He got up to stretch his legs and then collapsed in the aisle. She went to  
him, but he wasn't breathing, there was no pulse and the body was already cold."   
  
"Already cold? But there would have to be residual heat..."   
  
"Already cold. (Don't contradict me, I'm not the one who made the statement.) One of the   
stewards moved him to the food station and had one of his coworkers inform the pilot while he   
tried to perform CPR. He described the chest as harder and harder to move, until he couldn't   
put any pressure on it at all."   
  
"That's not possible," I insisted.   
  
"Well, that's the way she and the airline people tell it, I interviewed them all separately and  
they corroborate each other's stories," he said.The irritation was more than obvious now.   
  
I decided to avoid a confrontation with Doggett over his interviewing skills, took a breath,   
and said, "Well, then, I suppose we should fly to Omega and question Dr. Gray's friends and   
coworkers. See if they have any explanation for his death."   
  
I placed the last of the organs I had been gathering up during our conversation back in the   
body with a chunk and tried to shove the body back onto the car jacks.   
  
"You don't have to secure it, Agent. It's not going anywhere," Doggett pointed out.   
  
"Someone else may need the table," I countered.   
  
Doggett looked at the ruined table with an expression I couldn't quite read (laughter?   
disbelief? exasperation?), but he came forward and helped me push the body. We shoved the   
jacks and the body on them over to one of the bottom freezers, leaving deep ruts in the   
linoleum. Doggett opened the door, and we both pushed. The body slid into the freezer with a   
dull smack and I closed the door.  
  
  
We took the next flight to Omega, (Doggett had managed to get our luggage transferred to the   
other flight while I got the tickets) rented a car, and got an appointment for the next day   
with Dr. Thomas, the head of the project Dr. Gray was assigned to.   
  
Doggett and I got adjoining rooms in one of the cheap motels I had become accustomed to during   
my long assignment to the X Files. I managed to get into my pajamas and into bed without   
falling asleep before I finished.   
  
I had been under a great deal of stress the entire flight, since we had to fly through a   
thunderstorm to get here. Doggett spent the whole time sleeping or thumbing through my autopsy  
results without once acknowledging me. Mulder would have at least tried to comfort me or   
engage me in conversation, if only for a few minutes. But then, Mulder knew that flying   
bothered me and Doggett didn't. Still, the fact that I was gripping the armrests hard enough   
for my knuckles to turn white should have been a sign.   
  
Why is everything today reminding me of Mulder? Doggett had said, "I think we're here" when we  
landed, but there was none of the Mulder's irony in his words; it was a simple statement of   
fact. There must have been something else, something I couldn't put my finger on... Maybe I   
just miss him. Even though I managed to fall asleep, I didn't dream. I couldn't.  
  
  
"SCULLY!!!"   
I sat bolt upright. There were loud banging and scraping sounds coming from Doggett's room. I  
burst through the connecting door, gun in hand. Doggett was on the floor, tangled in his   
covers. He was sound asleep, wrestling with some demon in his dream.   
  
"WHERE IS SHE, YOU SON OF A BITCH!!"   
  
"Doggett!" I yelled as I shook him awake.   
  
His eyes flew open and he took a swing at me, which I wasn't fast enough to duck. The punch   
hit me square on the side of the face. I fell backwards and to the side, getting tangled in   
the ends of the bed sheets and banging my head on the foot of the bed. I saw twin Doggetts   
leaning over me, eyes blazing. Then he paused and looked confused, and the twin images became   
one.   
  
"Agent Scully? What..." His brow furrowed, then he sat back down and thought for a second.   
  
I said a little dazedly, "I heard you through the wall. You were calling for me. I thought..."  
  
"Calling for you?!" he responded, with an amusedly incredulous look. Then he noticed my gun on  
the floor and the fact that we were both still partially tangled in the bed sheets and asked,   
"Did I?" I nodded, touching the forming lump on the back of my head. With a troubled look he   
said, "Sorry, I was having a nightmare."   
  
"Do you remember what about?"   
  
"No, I'm sorry, I don't." Then he noticed the bruise on the side of my cheek and said, "I'll   
go get some ice for that." He disentangled himself, took the ice bucket and walked out.   
  
Something in the back of my mind told me that he was lying about not remembering the dream's   
contents. But why wouldn't he tell me? Perhaps there were issues in his dream that were too   
personal to share. I realized I was unconsciously rubbing my belly, and stopped. He returned   
with the bucket, wrapped the ice in a washcloth, and handed it to me.   
  
"I apologize for that, Agent. It won't happen again."   
  
I stood up and eyed him as he crawled self consciously back into bed. "You really don't   
remember what happened in your dream," I said, more a statement than a question.   
  
He shook his head slowly and said earnestly, "No, I don't. Why is it so important to you?"   
  
I looked at the ridges and bumps in the cheaply made wash cloth, then looked up at Doggett.   
"Mulder once told me that a dream is an answer to a question that we haven't yet learned how to  
ask. I was just wondering if your nightmare had a deeper source that needs looking into."   
  
He gave me a small smile (You subscribe to that theory, Agent Scully?) and said, "No, I don't   
think so. Some people just have crazy dreams and it doesn't mean anything more than that. I'm  
one of those people. I don't have any questions that need answers ... OR answers that need   
questioning," he added as an afterthought. I wanted to press it, but then he said politely but  
decidedly, "Good night, Agent," and I knew it would do no good.   
  
I answered, "Good night, Agent Doggett" and went back to my room with the washcloth.  
  
********************************************************************************************  
Agent Scully and I had our meeting with Dr. Thomas the next day. I was still a little shaken   
up about Agent Scully finding out about my dreams, but I decided I wasn't going to let it show.  
We can't let our personal lives interfere with the investigation.   
  
The facility wasn't difficult to find, it had a large sign and resembled a cross between a barn  
and an upside down pyramid. According to the manager of the hotel we were staying at, Omega   
had been a ghost town until Danning decided to set up shop. Now, 90% of the town's revenue   
came from it. We were given precise instructions to Dr. Thomas' office by a friendly security   
guard, and the doctor came bursting out to greet us before his secretary could open her mouth.  
  
"Agents Doggett and Scully, right? Welcome to Danning Biotechnologies." He escorted us into a  
bright, sparsely decorated office. Degrees and awards covered the walls, and the only   
furniture in the room consisted of two chairs covered with some sort of blue felt and a large   
desk containing several folders and a state of the art computer. "Have a seat. Can I get you   
anything?" the doctor beamed.   
  
Agent Scully seemed a bit flabbergasted by the doctor's enthusiasm; she could only manage a   
"thank you, nothing."   
  
I suppressed the impulse to request a bowl of Lucky Charms from the small, cheerful man in the   
green lab coat and took over the interrogation. "We're here investigating the death of Dr.   
Gray..."   
  
"Tragic business, that," the doctor jumped in, seating himself on the edge of his desk. "He   
was like a son to me, and like a brother to every individual who had the pleasure to work with   
him. No one feels his loss more deeply than I."   
  
"His girlfriend?" Agent Scully muttered softly. Meeoww! Wow, Scully.   
  
"Michelle," the doctor said with a nod. Evidently, he had heard Agent Scully's comment. "She  
and Adam have been together since junior year of college. They were supposed to get married in  
Europe."   
  
I asked, "He discussed his wedding plans with you?"   
  
"Of course! I already told you he was like my own flesh and blood. He wanted me to come to   
the wedding, but I was much too busy for that. I did leave my gift to them at the house though.  
We've been having problems with our most important project. Oh, nothing to worry about. We   
have the most qualified medical specialists and technicians in the country."   
  
"What exactly is this project?" Agent Scully asked.   
  
"The exact nature of the project is not available to company outsiders, espionage, you know,   
but I can tell you that it had to do with fighting some of the more prevalent diseases of the   
modern era."   
  
I asked, "Would Dr. Gray have tried to sell the research to another company?"   
  
"Oh, no. Adam was one of our most loyal employees, a really gifted man. He'd never dream of   
going to work for anyone else. He knew that no other company could give him access to the kind  
of resources he had right here. " He then smiled broadly and asked, "Will there be anything   
else?"   
  
Agent Scully asked, "May we see Dr. Gray's office before we leave?"   
  
"We would also like to speak to some of Dr. Gray's coworkers," I added.   
  
"Of course you can. His office is right down the hall, and I'll inform the rest of the team to  
be as cooperative as possible," the doctor beamed.   
  
Scully went out, and I turned just as I was going out the door and asked, "Do you think this   
project had anything to do with Dr. Gray's death?"   
  
The doctor looked startled, then said, "Well, I don't think so. Adam was well liked by   
everyone. I can't imagine who would want to hurt him. We emphasize teamwork; everyone here   
gets equal credit. It's more like a family than a job, really."   
  
"Thank you, Doctor," I said walking out and shutting the door behind me. Before the   
sentimentality makes me nauseous. Agent Scully was waiting out in the hall. "I expected   
someone so talkative would be more informative," I said.   
The corners of Agent Scully's mouth turned up, and she led the way down the hall to Dr. Gray's   
office.  
  
Dr. Gray's office looked very much like Dr. Thomas', except for the names on the awards hanging  
on the wall and the woman in the picture on his desk. There was no computer sitting on the   
desk, and the drawers were unlocked and empty.   
  
"They took all the material relating to Dr. Gray's work before we got here. They must have   
done it last night right after you called to set up the appointment," Agent Scully commented.   
  
I nodded and leaned on the desk with one hand while thumbing through the Rolodex set neatly   
above the telephone with the other. Aside from Michelle Laker, the rest of the names were of   
coworkers. I suddenly got the idea of checking Dr. Gray's messages and picked up the notepad   
on the desk, but it was brand new. I glanced over the side of the desk to the garbage can.   
Empty. Agent Scully took the pad from me carefully and started making a list of people that we  
wanted to question. I placed both my palms on the desk and leaned on it. I had a mental   
picture of me opening the middle drawer of a desk mine yet not mine and sticking a computer   
disk to the top...It's a good hiding place. I opened the middle drawer and felt along the top.  
I was only half surprised when I pulled out a small notebook. "Agent," I said, holding it up.  
  
She came over and took the book from me. "It's a feeding schedule," she said, glancing through  
it.   
  
"Of course. Dr. Gray was in charge of the test animals for the experiment," I said.   
  
She looked up at me, eyes glittering. "How many scientists feed their test animals pepperoni   
pizza from Little Nero's?" she asked, handing the schedule to me.   
******************************************************************************************  
  
"What?" I demanded, taking the notebook and thumbing through it.   
  
Agent Scully pointed to the entry, and said, "The feeding schedule goes back two years. If   
they're experimenting on humans, it's our duty to investigate and put a stop to it."   
  
I nodded, but held up a cautionary hand. "We have to be careful. It's a good bet that no one   
will take kindly to our investigating," I said.   
  
"There's got to be someone connected to the project that knows about and feels sorry for this   
person or persons. We just find who they are and ask them to help us," she insisted.   
  
Sure, easy as pie. "How do we know who to talk to or trust on this?"   
  
"Well, we can start by questioning Dr. Gray's coworkers." She marched out straight and tall, a  
woman on a mission. I slipped the schedule into the inside pocket of my suit jacket and   
followed her.   
  
We talked to all the names on the Rolodex, but no one had anything to say other than how   
wonderful Dr. Gray was and how much he would be missed and that no, they couldn't talk about   
the project because we were not company employees. A few of them fished for information on   
what Dr. Thomas had told us about the project. I obliged them with hints that we were told the  
project was meant to cure Alzheimer's with one doctor, cancer with another, AIDS with a third,  
and they all jumped to agree with "Dr. Thomas'" in each case. Agent Scully was giving me the   
oddest looks throughout the interrogations, as though she couldn't quite believe I was capable   
of lying. I don't lie. I willfully participate in a campaign of misinformation. For some   
reason, I couldn't quite suppress a soft laugh with that thought, which I managed to disguise   
as a cough. Agent Scully looked as though she didn't know whether to pat my back or flee in   
terror. I managed to suppress the second laugh I felt bubbling up. The last thing I need   
right now is to betray my cool exterior while I'm interviewing potential witnesses. Although   
it would be fun to watch Scully flee in terror...   
  
There was one, a younger doctor, who was more cooperative and not as secretive as the others.   
He must have been one of those geniuses you hear about on the news who graduate with a   
bachelor's degree when they're in their teens; he couldn't have been more than 25. He admitted  
that the project did have test animals, but he didn't work with them directly, only studied the  
tissue samples he was given. He couldn't give us any specifics about what chemicals or drugs   
were being used to treat the tissue, if any, or how well they seemed to be working. I felt   
sorry for the kid; he did genuinely seem to want to help. Not fake friendly like the other   
doctors. Eventually a guard came and told us that our visitor's permit was expiring and that   
we would have to leave the facility. I wanted to protest, but Agent Scully stepped in between   
us and guided me away.   
  
I spent the whole time back to the motel thinking about how Agent Scully and I were going to   
talk our way back into the facility. It was the classic catch 22: we needed to get back in for  
more information, but we needed more information to get back in. From Agent Scully's   
expression, she was having as much trouble focusing on the task at hand as I was. I took a   
nice cold shower and checked my cell phone messages. Michelle had called several times begging  
for news, so we went to the restaurant where she worked for dinner.   
  
It was quite a nice place. I took the feeding schedule out of my pocket and thumbed through it  
while we waited for Michelle to take our order. When she arrived, we told her that we were   
still investigating but we thought that Dr. Gray's death might have something to do with his   
work and promised to keep her updated. After Michelle left, I sat quietly and watched Agent   
Scully put sugar into her ice tea and stir it.   
  
"We spent all day at that facility and don't know much more than what we came in with. Either   
the doctors don't have any idea or really don't care what happened to Dr. Gray."   
  
"Or they do know and aren't telling," Agent Scully added. Then she said, "Agent Doggett," and   
pointed to something behind me.   
  
I recognized the man she was pointing at as the young helpful doctor that we had talked to   
earlier that day. He took a bag from the carry out window, noticed us staring, and took a   
quick look around before coming over to us.   
  
"It wasn't an accident; Oracle did him in. That's all I know."   
  
He started to go, but I grabbed his sleeve and asked, "What's Oracle?"   
  
"One of the test animals. Whatever they're taking tissue from. The feeding schedule," he said,  
pointing to the notebook I had left sitting on the table, "I get the stuff on it. I saw Dr.   
Bradshaw taking a chicken sandwich I brought back one day into the area where the test animals   
are." Off our looks, he insisted, "No food goes in there that's not for the animals. Dr.   
Thomas keeps strict regs on things like that. I haven't ever been in there, I can't tell you   
what exactly this thing is, but I've never seen anything like the tissue samples they gave me."  
  
"Never?" Agent Scully asked curiously.   
  
I broke in, "How do you know that this Oracle murdered the doctor?"   
  
"It turned him to stone, didn't it? Nothing human could do that. Adam got stuck looking after  
it because all the other doctors are afraid of it. They must have a reason, right?"   
  
"Do you know how the creature, if that's indeed what caused this, could turn someone to stone?"  
Agent Scully asked.   
  
"I don't know. It must be pretty vicious, they keep it drugged."   
  
This could be our chance. I glanced at Agent Scully, who nodded. "We need you to get us in   
there," I said.   
  
"They'll kill me if they find out I helped you," he said.   
  
"They can't just..." Agent Scully said.   
  
"They can! They can do whatever they want to keep it from escaping. They need it."   
  
"For what?" Agent Scully pressed.   
  
"The project. The tissue, it heals..." His eyes shifted around nervously. "I've got to go."   
  
"Hey!" I said, tightening my grip.   
  
"If I'm gone too long they'll know something's up! I'll call you if I find a way to help." He  
wiggled out of my grasp and was out the door before I could blink.   
  
"Well?" I asked Agent Scully.   
  
"I guess we wait," she replied.  
********************************************************************************************  
  
Doggett and I waited in my room for word from the young doctor. The air conditioning in the   
room was broken, and it hissed as it struggled to put out cool air. I sat on the bed and   
managed to connect the young man's face to the name Matthew Dunbar after thumbing through the   
names we took from the rolodex.   
  
Doggett collapsed in one of the chairs next to the small table where the remains of my morning   
coffee had left a ring. He was sitting partly in the shadows, but I could still see the dark   
circles under his eyes. I was fairly certain that last night's nightmare had not been the   
first, but I didn't want to broach the subject, having been decidedly given the brush off last   
night. I had managed to cover the bruise on my cheek up with makeup this morning but most of   
it had sweated off during the day and I could see the dark blotch clearly on my cheek in the   
mirror, even from across the room. We must have looked like escapees from a bar brawl. Very   
professional. I could see Skinner in my mind's eye sitting behind his desk wearing his best   
"Why do I even bother?" face, with Mulder lounging splay legged in the chair next to me,   
feigning nonchalance as I tried to make another lame excuse or bizarre theory sound remotely   
plausible. I stifled a yawn and glanced at Doggett, who was almost asleep.   
  
Speaking of bizarre theories... "How did you know where the notebook would be?" I asked.   
  
He jumped slightly, then looked up at me with tired eyes. "I don't know, it just seemed like a  
logical place to hide something like that," he mumbled.   
  
"A logical place."   
  
"Mmhm." I thought he had fallen asleep, but then he pricked up a little bit and asked me, "You  
don't really believe that kid, do you? You know, the whole business about some sort of   
biogenetically enhanced creature putting the whammy on the doctor."   
  
The whammy? "Whether it's a human being or some sort of creature, as Dr. Dunbar seems to think,  
I can't even begin to explain how it could turn doctors to stone or produce strange healing   
tissue samples," I said.   
  
"Kind of shakes your faith in science sometimes, doesn't it?" Doggett said, musingly. He was   
so tired it didn't even sound like his voice.   
  
The phone rang, distracting me from my thoughts. I leaned back to answer it. "Scully."   
  
"South entrance. I'll show you the way, but I'm not going in there," Dr. Dunbar said.   
  
I hung up. "We got it," I announced to Doggett.  
  
We parked the car a safe distance from the building and walked in on foot. I could see by the   
light of the moon, but just barely. Dr. Dunbar was right where he said he would be. Even   
though it had a fresh façade, it was obviously a much older portion of the building than any of  
the offices or labs we had visited earlier that day. The "south entrance" was nothing more   
than a door held shut by a rusted chain and ancient padlock. Dr. Dunbar pulled out an ancient   
looking key and managed to force the lock open. He then proceeded to take us down a flight of   
stairs and through long halls with open doors and checkered linoleum through double doors to a   
large open section that looked like the converted remains of an old warehouse. Only the   
equipment was new. Everything else was older, but well kept up. There was a steel door on the  
opposite end of the room with a code lock. There appeared to be some sort of archaic alarm   
system wired to the door that could also be activated by a button. The door was labeled, "Test  
animals. Hazardous, will bite. Authorized personnel only. Special diet, no food or drinks   
allowed."   
  
"The code is 2462," Dunbar said. I was curious to know where he had learned it, but it wasn't   
really relevant to the task at hand. Then he handed us a radio with only a slight bit of   
hesitation. "Call me if you need help," he said, while taking up position at the door. Doggett   
nodded his thanks before punching in the code and stepping inside.   
  
Behind the door was a dimly lit hallway, containing nothing but a large plate of plexiglass at   
the end. The walls were brick, and the floor was concrete. The whole impression was very much  
like an institution for the criminally insane. We approached the glass cautiously.   
  
"The monkeys aren't rabid, despite what the sign says," a voice said from inside the cell.   
  
I came a little closer. I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn't a teenage   
girl of about 16 or 17, leaning nonchalantly against the far wall. She looked malnourished and  
dirty, but her eyes were bright and alert, with a hint of mischief and abundant good humor.   
She had extensive scarring on her arms; I couldn't determine whether she was abused or whether   
the injuries were self -inflicted. Now that we had found the object of our search, I was   
suddenly at a loss for what to say.   
  
"Your name and your quest will do," the girl said. "You can add your favorite color if you   
want, it's not necessary." She was odd, most likely from the conditions and lack of human   
contact.   
  
I decided to play it safe and said slowly, "I'm Dana Scully, this is John Doggett. We're here   
to help you."   
  
She cocked her head and asked, "Is it Agent Doctor Scully or Doctor Agent Scully?"   
  
I blinked and asked, "How did you know we were from the FBI?"   
  
"You mean, how did I know about the FBI, after living so long in the box?" she said with a   
laugh. "Word gets around. It's just Scully then, I guess," she said with a slight smile.   
"And Agent Doggett. You have a very interesting aura," she continued matter of factly. His   
eyebrows looked like they were going to emigrate from his scalp. I could feel mine doing the   
same, since she seemed a lot happier than I would have expected. "It's not living, it's   
getting by with what I have. But I've adapted," she explained.   
  
I was torn between reminding myself that the girl was a potential murder suspect and the   
motherly impulse to set her free. I asked, "Did you know Dr. Gray?"   
  
"Mmhm. I'm sorry he's dead, I hated his guts but I didn't mean to kill him."   
  
Doggett said, "So it was you."   
  
"It wasn't an intentional thing! Tissue's a gift, anyone can take it and be okay. I'm self   
repairing. Take sample, synthesize tissue, slap on wound, adheres and heals. Make lots of   
money." So that was the tissue Dr. Dunbar had mentioned. "But blood, have some of that and   
you can't go back," she said seriously.   
  
"Dr. Gray gave himself a transfusion of your blood to repair an injury and died from it?" I   
asked.   
  
"Can you prove any of this?" Doggett interjected, half to me, half to the girl.   
  
"Of course," she responded.   
  
"Absolutely," I answered at the same time. I was convinced of the girl's innocence, and asked,  
"Is there a key?"   
  
"You only need a key if you have a lock, and you only have a lock if you expect to let it out,"  
she said wryly. Then the girl's head came up like a dog on a scent. "The doctors are coming.  
Not even Wyatt Earp out there can hold them off forever. Better get out of Dodge."   
  
"Agent Scully! Agent Doggett!" Dr. Dunbar came bursting in. "The doctors, they're all   
coming..." Then he stopped and gawked at the girl.   
  
"Let's go," Doggett said, dragging Dr. Dunbar and I with him. Doggett stopped and said, "We'll  
be back," as he pushed us out the door.   
  
"I know you will. I can see the future," she said, sounding eerily like the Stupendous Yappi.  
From the grin on her face, I could see that this was her intent. She was trying to be light,   
but I could see the haunted look in her eyes.   
  
Dr. Dunbar took us back across the lab to a door opposite the one we had come in. He led us   
into a hallway in more disrepair than the one we had come up and shushed us. We left the door   
open a crack and could hear the doctors enter. They were engaged in animated conversation, and  
we waited until the noise died. Doggett pushed the door open further, and motioned us out. We  
were almost to the opposite door when it swung open and another doctor entered, holding a   
hygienically wrapped needle. We both stared at each other for a moment, then he took off   
towards the test animals door. Doggett chased him and tacked him, but not before the doctor   
could hit the alarm button on the wall next to the door.   
*******************************************************************************************  
  
That damned thing went off like a three alarm fire. I could hear the doctors scrambling back   
up the stairs; shoes squeaking like a herd of rats.   
  
I punched the doctor out and snarled, "Help me," as I jumped up and tried to push one of the   
lab tables heavy with equipment against the door. Dunbar and Agent Scully jumped forward and   
shoved the table up under the door handle as I futilely tried to silence the alarm. I gave up   
on that idea (the wires were imbedded in the wall, and I couldn't pull the switch out to get at  
them or shut it off), and I pulled out my gun and shot at the lock. The bullet ricocheted off   
the box, and we all hit the deck. "Shit," I said.   
  
"No time," Dunbar yelled, and we headed for the door. He led the way back upstairs towards the  
south entrance, and we burst outside right into the entire god damned security force. The guy   
in charge (he was easily the burliest man I had ever seen), bashed me upside the head with the   
butt of his rifle and took my gun from its holster. I tasted blood and saw white points of   
ight as I crumpled to the ground. The guy smashed me again on the back of the head and I was   
out cold.  
  
I dreamed. Not a story, not an event, but fragments of images, words, feelings. ...they took   
everything from me..."Was it worth it?..." For what? To what end? When does the cost become   
too high? ... "Was it worth it?..." When is it time to atone for the mistakes you've made with   
your life?... "Was it worth it?..." "Is it worth sacrificing everything to save one life out of  
billions?" "I guess that depends on the life..." "Was it worth it?..." The pain, the emptiness,  
to finally find that one moment of grace only to sacrifice two minutes later..."Was it worth   
it?..." and you won't even be around to remember how god damned selfless you were... "Was it   
worth it?..." "I'll let you know..."   
  
I saw gray haze and smelled dust when I woke up. Someone was prodding the back of my head. I   
made some sort of noise that sounded like a cross between Chewbacca from Star Wars and someone   
strangling a cockatiel.   
  
"Sorry," I heard Agent Scully say. I tried to sit up, but since my head felt like it was going  
to explode I changed my mind. I managed to turn over just enough to look up at her. There   
were some nasty looking cuts on her neck, her hair was matted and her legs were skinned all the  
way up the front, but I couldn't see anything offhand that would prevent her from walking out   
of here. I could see Dunbar asleep against the wall out of the corner of my eye, holding his   
arm. He looked like someone had run over his head. "Broken arm, broken nose, but he didn't   
get a concussion."   
  
"I was going to ask about you," I said, letting my eyes flick down to her belly.   
  
"I'm fine," she said, her face screwing up the tiniest bit.   
  
Bullshit. "Agent Scully," I said calmly, "I need to know how badly you're injured, if you're   
capable of making it out of here on your own steam. If you can't make it, now is the time to   
tell me, so we can plan around it."   
  
She didn't say anything, just stared off across the room at nothing. "I'm fine." She looked a  
little irritated that her catch all phrase wasn't working on me.   
  
I sighed and changed tactics. "How am I doing? Can you see what's left of my brain?" trying   
to make a little joke out of it.   
  
She straightened up as much as she could and made an attempt to sound professional and in   
control. "You had a concussion. You need to take it easy. (I know you won't listen, but it   
doesn't hurt to try)," her undertone accused me.   
  
"Agent Scully," I said firmly, pulling myself up onto my left arm. She met my gaze with   
admirable control of her emotions. "Are we physically capable of leaving here?" I asked,   
putting emphasis on every word.   
  
She looked slightly taken aback and said, "I wouldn't recommend it..."   
  
"But could we?" I insisted.   
  
"Yes," she said softly, allowing the worry to leak through just a bit.   
  
I knew I had no right to be harsh; she was worried about our condition and chances for escape   
and I got the feeling that somehow this was making her miss Agent Mulder all over again.   
"Agent," I started to apologize.   
  
"Don't. I'm fine," she said. Are you? But I couldn't find the voice to say it.   
  
  
I tried to get a better view of our surroundings, but a large table with a long sheet draped   
over it was in my way. "Where are we?" I asked.   
  
"Some sort of old quarantine area," she answered. I closed my eyes and thought. "Agent   
Doggett?" she said with some concern. I opened my eyes. She thought I was relapsing into my   
concussion.   
  
"Just thinking," I said mildly. I closed my eyes and thought some more. Then I started to get  
an inkling of an idea. "Is there an oxygen tank in here?" I asked finally.   
  
She pulled herself up by the edge of the table and looked. Her knees were in worse shape than  
I had originally thought. "As a matter of fact, there is."   
  
"Any air in it?"   
  
Her feet disappeared as she limped around the table. "Yes," her voice said from the corner.   
  
I started to get excited. "Is there a blunt object, like a wrench or pipe or anything like   
that?"   
  
"I'm sitting on it, some kind of hammer with no head," Dunbar said groggily from his place   
against the wall. He pulled it out, and Agent Scully came over and took it.   
  
"I'll help you move the tank over to the door," I said, attempting to stand up.   
  
"Actually, I can think of someplace better to put it," Agent Scully said, with a slight   
mischievous spark in her blue eyes. The table I was attempting to support myself on moved. I   
wiggled it again and looked down. A gurney? I checked the straps and buckles. They were   
still good.   
  
"Brilliant," I said with a grin. Dunbar caught on too, because he got to his feet and helped   
Agent Scully and I drag the tank over and set it on top of the gurney.  
***************************************************************************************  
  
We strapped the tank to the gurney, rolled it over to what Agent Doggett decided was a good   
starting position and cleared a path between it and the door. We then locked the wheels in a  
straight line, and I supported Doggett while Dr. Dunbar gave the gauge at the end a few sharp   
strokes. The end broke, and our battering ram flew straight and true into the door, putting a   
large hole in the wall and the wall beyond it. The man assigned to guard us had been asleep,   
and had been so startled by the noise that I had no trouble taking his gun and escorting him to  
the broom closet.   
  
We managed to find a door that led to a staircase. I would have preferred an elevator, since   
according to the sign we were in subbasement 3. We must have been quite a sight, a small red   
haired woman with injured knees and a man who looked like a lab experiment gone wrong   
supporting a much taller man whose head was flopping every which way as he attempted to   
alleviate the migraines caused by our motion.   
  
We made it up to level one and back to the lab. We opened the door to the test animal room   
cautiously, keeping one eye on the alarm. Dunbar gasped suddenly, and I nearly dropped my half  
of Doggett. Dr. Bradshaw was lying across one of the steps, fast asleep with a contented smile  
on his face. In fact, all of the doctors associated with the project were there, including a   
few I hadn't seen before, sprawled out over every square inch of the hallway floor and sleeping  
soundly. The girl was also passed out inside her cell, but judging from her color and ragged   
breaths, she was resting anything but comfortably. Her arm had been dragged out through the   
slot for the food tray and the tips of her fingers were still peeking through the slot.   
  
"We have to get her out of here," I hissed.   
  
"Ventilation shaft," Doggett suggested, pointing to the vent inside the girl's cell.   
  
"Too small. Can't pull anything through the light fixtures either, it's too narrow. Cutter?"   
Dunbar suggested, indicating the glass.   
  
"Too loud and would take too long. Also, no room," Doggett said.   
  
I looked at the bolts holding the pane of plexiglass in place. They had a groove cut in the   
middle... "Screwdriver," I said.   
  
The men looked at each other, then at me, and nodded. "One with power," Doggett suggested.   
  
"Handyman's closet," Dunbar said, as he went off to look.  
  
Dunbar soon returned, and we stepped lightly over Dr. Bradshaw as we descended into the room.   
I had taken off my shoes before I entered, and I managed to step lightly around the sleeping   
forms. Doggett's feet were larger than mine, so he had to choose his steps more carefully.   
One of the doctors in front of him moved suddenly and Doggett would have fallen on top of the   
one behind if his shoulder hadn't struck the wall. Dunbar looked as though he was going to   
have a nervous fit. I shushed him, and motioned him over to the right side of the panel.   
Doggett managed to remove his foot from in between one doctor's arm and another's back and took  
the left side of the panel. He was still a little uncoordinated, but I couldn't worry about   
that right then.   
  
I stuck the tool on the end of one of the bolts and started the motor. It sounded impossibly   
loud in the small space, but not one of the doctors stirred. I slowly and carefully turned it,  
and the bolt popped out. I managed to catch it before it hit the floor after some frantic   
scrambling. Doggett was giving me the evil eye, Dunbar looked like he wanted to dive across   
the floor and shake me. I placed the bolt in my pocket and started on the next. By the time I  
was done with the right side, the doctors had become more restless. I managed to tiptoe around   
to the left side, tripping over a few doctors who grunted complaints in their sleep and almost   
falling into Doggett. A few moments later, the doctors I had tripped over began to make   
motions of waking up. I looked at them, the girl, and the tool. Silence be damned. I went as  
fast as the tool would work, and the doctors began to get quite restless. Doggett snarled   
something, and Dunbar started making frantic motions with his hands but put them back up   
against the glass in time to keep the plate from crashing to the ground. When I had finished   
with the last bolt and taken off the steel stripping, the two men lowered the plate enough for   
me to slip in between it and the wall.   
  
The girl had lost a lot of blood, but her eyes fluttered open when I touched her.   
  
"We're getting you out of here," I said gently.   
  
"Can't leave, they need me," she said.   
  
"No talking," I admonished, helping her to stand up and slip past the glass. I followed her,   
and managed to catch Doggett's half of the glass as he caught the fainting girl and guided her   
gently to the ground. He then jumped forward and helped Dunbar and I guide the glass back up   
to a standing position. Then Dunbar slid around me and picked up the girl. I put my arm   
around Doggett, and we both tiptoed out back around the doctors.   
  
The girl was mumbling, "Too late, can't go, they can't live without me..."  
  
We smuggled her out of the lab and placed her in the back seat with Dunbar while I took the   
wheel. Doggett, as dizzy as he was, had no complaint. I had just started the car when I saw   
headlights coming right for us.   
  
"Go!" Doggett yelled.   
  
I put the car into gear and pressed the pedal all the way to the floor. We came flying around   
the building, tires squealing and the car fishtailing wildly. We went barreling through the   
front driveway and crashing though the security fence, kicking up an enormous cloud of dust. I  
swung a hard right onto the road, hitting a pothole and causing the girl to scream. I took a   
glance in the rear view mirror. She was writhing, and Dunbar was doing his best to keep her   
from hurting herself.   
  
"Seizure," I said.   
  
Security was still after us. We kept driving, and I thanked God for FBI hot pursuit driving   
school. We reached the crest of a hill, and saw a police road block waiting for us with guns   
drawn. Security had obviously called in the theft. I wanted to stop and just explain   
everything to local law enforcement, but by that time the girl would be dead from blood loss or  
the seizures or both. I cursed and pulled a fast 180, leaving a tire skid in the road, and   
took off in the opposite direction, pulling onto the shoulder to avoid the Danning security   
trucks that were now inches from my front bumper. The girl's screams intensified. I pushed   
the pedal back down to the floor. We passed the lab again, and kept driving. After what   
seemed like hours but was really only a few minutes, she let out one particularly violent   
scream and lay still.   
  
"Is she..." Doggett asked. Visions of the side of her head exploding flew through my brain.   
  
"No. Passed out from the pain," Dunbar said.   
  
Finally, I saw a hospital sign and took the turn. The police and security weren't far behind.   
Everything that happened after I pulled up is a blur. I remember pulling out my ID and shoving  
it in the face of the nearest cop, while the hospital staff came out and bustled the girl   
inside the building. Danning security, of course, insisted that we stole documents, but when a   
search of the car turned up nothing there was nothing more for them to say. Doggett, Dunbar   
and I gave a full statement about what we had witnessed and insisted that the doctors be   
arrested. After yelling at the top of my lungs and giving the same statement several times to   
different officials, my voice was hoarse and I was very tired. Doggett came out with his head   
bandaged and a cup of coffee. He offered to escort me inside, but I informed him that I could   
make it on my own.   
  
"You did a good thing today, Agent Scully," he called.   
  
I turned and looked at him. His eyes were so full of pride that I was speechless. Then he   
gave me a little shrug and went back over to chat with some of the officers.   
  
The nurses bandaged my legs and offered to let us stay and watch over the girl. Doggett and   
Dunbar were both all right, but the girl needed several blood transfusions before she was   
declared stable. There were a variety of unidentified synthetic chemicals in her bloodstream   
that also had to be neutralized. I stayed right by her side, and awoke to find myself in a   
chair next to her bed. The maternal instincts are awakening, I thought as I glanced down at my  
belly. I think you'd make a great mother, Scully, Mulder's voice said inside my mind.   
  
"Agent Scully." One of the detectives from last night motioned me out into the hall.   
  
"What did you find?" I asked.   
  
He scratched his head and said, "Well, we found plenty of evidence, all right, but we couldn't   
find anything concrete to prove that the owners of Danning Biotech knew that the doctors were   
experimenting on humans. So, as of this moment, we have plenty of evidence but no one to   
convict."   
  
"What do you mean? You have the doctors, don't you?"   
  
"Well, that's just it. See, we found the doctors, but they were all dead. Bodies are all hard  
as a rock, never seen anything like it." My blood ran cold. The detective continued, "We   
figure there must have been someone else involved, covering up evidence. But, since we can't   
find any record of anyone else or even prove there was a murder, all we can do is bury them and  
move on." The detective started fidgeting under my stunned stare. "I'm really sorry. Hope   
social services can find that girl a home real soon. Good day, Agent Scully." He turned and   
walked down the hall.   
  
The girl was awake in the room, watching the entire interaction through the open door. "What   
happened out there?" I asked her.   
  
"When my blood is consumed, the life force of the person who drinks it joins with mine. The   
drinker doesn't age, and is impervious to damage, because they are feeding off my life like a   
parasite with a host. The drinker needs to keep taking blood in order to maintain the   
connection. Dr. Gray invited his friends to share in his gift, which meant that my force was   
spread thinner and thinner and the individuals receiving had to keep closer and closer to me to  
maintain the connection. When Dr. Gray went to get married, the connection was strained to   
the breaking point. If you think of blood as life, and since he has no life of his own stored   
in his body anymore, when the umbilical snapped all of the substances in his veins became   
non -life. That's why the bodies appear to have turned to stone; because stone isn't a living  
thing." She stopped and looked out the window. I came and sat on the edge of the bed. She   
looked at me with tears in her eyes and said, "I don't know if my freedom was worth the price I  
had to pay. All those people... I tried to hold onto them..."   
  
"Is there anything you could have done to stop them from doing what they did? Anything you   
could have done differently, knowing what you know now?" The girl thought, then shook her head.  
I continued, "You couldn't have kept them all alive forever. Eventually that Life Force would   
have been spread thin enough that you all would have died. I know how it feels, to see someone  
hurt because of something you did or didn't do." Mulder being taken up into the spaceship...   
It should have been me that went... I swallowed and continued, "I will have to live with the   
decisions I made for the rest of my life, but I know that no matter how terrible any situation   
seems, some good always comes out of it." She nodded and gave my arm a little squeeze in   
sympathy. I stood up and went to the door. Then I started and said, "Forgive me, I just   
realized I never got your name."   
  
"What, my birth name? I'm not really sure. I've been bounced from institution to institution   
since I was born. All I know about my parents is that they told them I was stillborn so they   
wouldn't come looking for me. One of the others took to calling me Oracle, and the name   
stuck."   
  
"What others?"   
  
"The other kids. You didn't think I was the only one, did you?"  



	2. Mulder is Found

Disclaimers: See part 1.  
  
Episodes Referenced in THIS section: Dreamland, Excelcius Dei (?), Dod   
Kalm. All others cover multiple episodes.  
  
  
Oracle, Pt. 2  
"There were other kids in different divisions at Danning?" I asked. I had talked to the   
detective and called Michelle with the news that her fiancée had died from an experiment gone   
wrong at the company. I felt a little guilty not mentioning the girl, but since we couldn't   
prove that she killed the doctors on purpose or accidentally, I decided to just leave it out.   
At least now she has a reason, some closure. That's what's important when someone you know   
dies too soon. I walked past the door just in time to hear Oracle's birth history and   
subsequent revelation.   
  
"No, not at Danning. They gathered us up, and just passed us around to different projects that  
were willing to pay the money to use us. Military, private contractors, you name it. When   
they were done, they shipped us back to the warehouse."   
  
"Where is this warehouse?" I asked.   
  
"The desert? The guards just called it the Happy Valley Nut House."   
  
"These other kids, were they..." Agent Scully's voice trailed off.   
  
"Oh, no, nothing like that. We were born, not made or hybridized. Most people, if they have   
mental powers at all, focus on one area, like healing or mind reading. Every once in a while,   
though, one of us comes along that has talent in all areas of the mind. There are still   
strengths and weaknesses in different areas, but since it's easier to make twenty strong   
psychics disappear than 100 weaker ones, we're the ones they're interested in collecting. They  
give us drugs to shorten our mental reach and influence enough to where they can control us,"   
Oracle said.   
  
Agent Scully was sitting there, lapping up every lie this girl was dishing out. I hadn't seen   
anything concrete so far that would make me believe that she could spontaneously heal or   
predict the future, as her name seemed to suggest. "Wouldn't the drugs cut down on your   
effectiveness?" I asked, with a healthy dose of skepticism.   
  
She looked at me with slight indignation and said, "They're more interested in making sure we   
don't rebel than they are in getting 100% accurate results. Is your head still bothering you?"  
It was, as a matter of fact. Another battle scar to add to my collection. "Can I see it?" she  
asked.   
  
I came closer, unwrapped the bandages, and let her look. It was a large welt, with   
deeper scrapes around the edges, but at least it hadn't needed stitching. She gently took my   
head in her hands, her long fingers just touching the edges of the wound, palms spread flat   
against the side of my head. I was about to protest, but then I felt the warmth coming out of   
her hands. It was a slight tingle spreading across my scalp, strange, but not unpleasant. The  
heat and tingle intensified, then her palms cooled to a normal body temperature. She let her   
hands drop, and I went and checked my reflection in the mirror in the adjoining bathroom. The   
wound wasn't completely healed over, but it was definitely improved. I came back out of the   
bathroom and stared.   
  
She shrugged and said, "Healing isn't one of my better areas. I was only at Danning because   
all ones with the real talent were already loaned out. Prediction's my forte."   
  
I was curious, but not willing to buy just yet. "All right, predict something for us.   
Something simple that will happen in the next few minutes."   
  
She said with a grin, "Your boss will come flying through that door." "What on earth would he   
be doing in Omega?" Agent Scully asked incredulously.   
  
Just then, Skinner came bursting in. His trench coat actually did resemble wings, flapping   
behind him like that.   
  
"What are you doing here, Sir?" Agent Scully asked.   
  
"The scandal is all over the news. I knew that you two would be mixed up in it somehow."   
  
"Sir," I started.   
  
"No need. You did request formal assignment, although Kersh has been breathing down my neck   
about "publicity hounds" in my division. You've been recalled to Washington. Social services  
can take it from here."   
  
"They can't", Oracle said, sitting on the edge of the bed.   
  
"I'm afraid they have to," Skinner said kindly.   
  
She then asked, "But if they ship me off to some foster home, how am I supposed to help you   
find Agent Mulder?"  
  
"You told her about Agent Mulder?" I demanded of Agent Scully.   
  
"No..." she started, but I cut her off.   
  
"The investigation is still ongoing. It's against Bureau policy to discuss case details with   
outsiders," I snapped.   
  
"I've known Agent Scully for years, Agent Doggett, and she would never undermine the progress   
of an investigation," Skinner interjected.   
  
Oracle was watching the exchange with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. "She didn't tell   
me, I just knew," she said. Her voice wasn't much louder than her normal speaking tone, but it  
sliced through the air like a knife, and all three of us stopped talking at once.   
  
Agent Scully pushed me out of the way and said with a no nonsense attitude, "If you're lying,   
so help me God..."   
  
"No, I want to help. I may not be able to tell you everything you want to know, but I can at   
the very least provide a place to start, which is more than you had before. After all, you   
helped me, it's only fair." The honesty in her face and determination in her eyes touched me.\  
  
I said gently, "We were just doing our job."   
  
Agent Scully's mouth was set in a straight line; she was silently pleading with me not to   
dissuade Oracle. Even if the kid could help as much as Agent Scully seemed to think, I didn't   
want her to feel obligated in any way.   
  
"So am I," Oracle answered, with a broad smile. "After all," she continued, "what's the point   
of having talent if you don't plan on using it? It might as well not be there."   
  
I took a glance at Skinner, who nodded once and started out the door. "We'd like to have your   
assistance on this, sir," Agent Scully called after him.   
  
Skinner stopped and looked at me. I could see Agent Scully and Oracle watching me out of the   
corner of my eye After all, it was my case, my assignment, I was the one filling out the   
report, ... I nodded and said, "Sure, why not?"  
  
I called the airline and made arrangements to fly out the next day, while Oracle used a little   
of her power on Agent Scully's injured knees. Dunbar came by to meet Oracle while I was on the  
phone. She greeted him as "Matthew Dunbar, reader of Spiderman comics." I didn't hear most of  
the conversation, but she obviously said something that embarrassed him, because his face was   
beet red when I peeked in on them a few minutes later. I questioned him, and he muttered   
something about not knowing she was a mind reader.   
  
"I just asked him about some of his hobbies. They're quite unusual," she said innocently.   
  
Dunbar's face flushed even more brightly, and although I was curious, something told me that I   
wasn't going to find out from either of them in this lifetime.   
  
"Agent Doggett," Skinner motioned me out into the hall. "I've made arrangements for Oracle to   
be transported to be transported to a safe house."   
  
"A safe house? Sir, Agent Scully and I are more than capable..." I protested. "Of what? Of   
defending her against an enemy that you haven't seen and know next to nothing about? If what   
she says about secret facilities is true, someone's going to come look for her."   
  
"The less attention we draw to ourselves, the better. The more she feels she can trust us, the  
better our chances of finding Agent Mulder. Besides, I think she's capable of handling   
herself," I said, indicating Dunbar as he emerged from the room and retreated quickly down the   
hall. Skinner looked puzzled. I peeked in and asked with as much joviality as someone like me   
can muster, "You doing okay in here?"   
  
"Yeah. I complimented him on his looks. He didn't seem to like it," Oracle answered,   
shoveling another scoop of lime jello into her mouth. Any part in particular? She grinned   
devilishly and took another spoonful.   
  
"Did I miss something?" Skinner asked.   
  
"It's not important," I said. Skinner gave us both a "they're all mad" look, but didn't say   
another word.  
  
Agent Scully, Skinner and I spent the rest of the day entertaining Oracle and discussing   
business. Dunbar dropped by a few more times to see Oracle, and he seemed to be more   
comfortable each time. They had a lot in common, judging from their animated conversation, but  
Dunbar was still a little wary of her gifts. She promised to call him from D.C. every once in   
a while. Skinner agreed to drop the safe house idea as long as two of the three of us agents   
were with Oracle at all times. I was surprised that Skinner wanted any part of this, but I   
guess he was just as concerned for Agent Mulder's welfare as Agent Scully was.   
  
Oracle had never been to the airport before, much less on a plane. Agent Scully bought her   
some sort of cinnamon candy for her to suck on, and started reading a paperback she had brought  
while I kept an eye out for anyone suspicious. I'll say one thing for the kid; she makes   
friends fast. In the space of an hour, she met everyone sitting in the waiting area for the   
plane, and was cradling a five year old kid in her lap while chatting animatedly about skeeball  
with the girl and her grandmother. Everyone coming over and telling me and Agent Scully what a  
fine daughter we had. We thanked everyone graciously, but I was having a hard time suppressing  
my urge to laugh, both at the mistake and Agent Scully's obvious discomfort. I know if a   
teenager is traveling with two adults, it's automatically assumed that the people are related   
in some way, but I mean come on. The kid looks more like Agent Mulder than she does like   
either of us. Even then, it's not a very close resemblance. When it was finally time for us   
to board, both the 5 year old and her grandmother looked very disappointed.   
  
We gave Oracle the window seat, I took the aisle to stretch my legs, which left Agent Scully   
with the center seat. She stood up on her tiptoes, trying to shove her bag into the overhead   
compartment. I stood back up and helped her push it in, leaving her a space to squeeze by and   
get into her seat.   
  
"Thank you," she said as I sat back down.   
  
"You're welcome, Agent," I said.   
  
Oracle was staring out the window. "Did you know that they squish the bags on both ends before  
they throw them onto the ramp?" she asked us.   
  
"Can you see them?" I asked, leaning over Agent Scully. "No," Oracle said.   
  
I took a glance behind me down the aisle. Skinner was seated back by the restrooms, acting as   
a backup. He gave me the all clear signal. I nodded and faced forward again. After we took   
off, (putting a look of sheer delight on Oracle's face,) the first part of the flight was   
pretty uneventful. Agent Scully used too much force on a bag of peanuts, spilling the shells   
down the front and inside her blouse. I didn't bother to help, all I would receive for my   
trouble would be a glare or a broken arm. Oracle crawled over us to go use the bathroom,   
stepping on our feet and elbowing me in the ribs. After she had been gone a few minutes, I   
started to get worried.   
  
Then I heard the crash of the food cart and Skinner snarl, "Agents!" Agent Scully and I   
hurried back, and Skinner said, "Left side," indicating a bathroom door. It was locked, so we   
forced it open. Oracle was standing on the toilet, gasping, with finger marks on her neck.   
There was a man at least three times her size slumped unconscious on the floor.  
*******************************************************************************************  
  
I checked the man's pulse, which was still beating strong. Skinner and Doggett dragged the man  
back to the service station where they could keep an eye on him, and I took Oracle back to her   
seat.   
  
"Do you know him?" I asked. She shook her head. How on earth could a 110 pound girl take down  
a man that big?   
  
"We called it slamming. It works like a stun gun, disrupts brain waves for a second and knocks  
them out cold. Kind of like what you call pushing, but instead of forcing the mind to react,   
it forces the mind not to react." I looked around. If one of them had gotten the drop on her,  
could there be more? "I don't think so, but it's kind of hard to tell. There's so much   
static going on," she said. I kept my eyes wide open the rest of the trip.  
  
Once we landed, we were at a loss for what to do. I felt as though there was something we   
forgot to do, something we should have picked up... It was nagging me, but I couldn't remember  
what it was. Skinner wanted to secure Oracle and get some sleep, I wanted to get us something   
to eat, Doggett wanted to get started on tracking down Mulder, and Oracle was flipping through   
a brochure on the Smithsonian that she had pulled from a rack along the way.   
  
"Why don't we go to Mulder's apartment, then eat, then sleep?" she suggested.   
We got our cars from the airport lot and drove down to Alexandria, checking for cars following   
us all the way. It felt so odd, staring at that building. It seemed so soulless without him   
there, so filled with ghosts. We took the elevator up, stopped in front of Number 42, and I   
fumbled around in my purse for the key. In the back of my mind, I kept expecting to see Mulder  
open the door, wipe the sleep from his eyes, and murmur, "Hey, come on in."   
  
The door opened silently and banged against the wall. The air was dark and still, except for   
the light over the fish tank. Oracle brushed gently past me and took a look around. She   
peeked in the kitchen, ran her fingers over the counter "you cleaned out his fridge, good for   
you," peeked in the bathroom, "head and shoulders," looked in the bedroom, "a mirrored waterbed.  
Isn't that kind of tacky? Especially with no water in it," and finally came to the living room  
and sat on the couch. She ran her fingers along the edge and lay down. I smiled. She   
succeeded in finding the only item in the apartment I considered uniquely Mulder's. As Mulder   
would say, "Perfect for sleeping, eating, thinking," ... and watching those videos that aren't   
yours. "Touche." Skinner just waited. Doggett started to look impatient.   
  
"If you're in such an all fired hurry, why don't you do it?" Oracle said, glancing up at   
Doggett.   
  
"Believe me, I would if I could," Doggett said.   
  
"You can, but you won't," she retorted.   
  
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"   
  
"You said it yourself. You're the only one who can find Agent Mulder. All I can do is help   
point the way."   
  
"All you've given us so far is bullshit."   
  
"Don't you get it? You're the one Agent Mulder's in contact with, not me."   
  
"Why would Mulder be in contact with Doggett?" Skinner asked.   
  
"Maybe he's the only one who would answer the phone," Oracle replied.   
  
"This is crazy," Doggett insisted.   
  
"What about that dream you had that night at the hotel? The one you wouldn't tell me about," I  
pressed.   
  
"I had a nightmare," Doggett growled.   
  
"What dream?" Skinner asked.   
  
"Doggett was calling my name, I went to go check on him, and he punched me," I said.   
  
"You punched her?" Skinner asked, grabbing Doggett's shirt.   
  
"I was asleep when I did it. I don't remember anything about what I was dreaming. It's over,   
done with, it means nothing," Doggett snapped, pushing Skinner away.   
  
"It means everything," Oracle insisted.   
  
"Did you ever stop to consider that you might be wrong about me?" Doggett said, looming over   
her with a scowl.   
  
"Did you ever stop to consider that I might be right?" She stood up, came over next to Doggett,  
and put her hand on his shoulder. "I know it's tough to swallow, but I sincerely believe that   
Mulder is feeding you information. If you can learn how to access it, then the information   
will lead you right to him. You won't have to do it alone; I'll be here to help you every step  
of the way," she said.   
  
"So will I," I said firmly. Skinner nodded.   
  
Doggett looked torn, finally he nodded and said, "Yeah, alright."   
  
We picked up dinner at McDonald's on the way home, and discussed tomorrow's plans. Oracle   
believed it would be best to start the place where Doggett was most comfortable, so we agreed   
to meet at his house first thing in the morning.   
  
I agreed to keep Oracle for the night. I meant to offer her the bed, but when I got out of the  
bathroom she had already retrieved a blanket and pillow from the closet and was fast asleep,   
her shoes resting on top of the coffee table with her socks protruding out of them. I tucked   
the blanket a little tighter around her, then I changed into my pajamas and slipped into bed.   
I began to feel a real glimmer of hope, something I hadn't felt in more than six months. If   
her belief was correct, and if Doggett cooperated, Mulder could be home by the time the baby   
was born. I wonder if Doggett will stay with the X Files after we find Mulder. I think they   
could become good friends, if they don't kill each other first. But then, any relationship   
that includes Mulder is like that. How he manages to be such a jerk and make you love him all   
the same is beyond me. I rolled over and put my arms around my pillow. Well, I'll have plenty  
of time to consider it when he comes back.   
  
I started awake. Something was pressed over my face, smothering me. I clawed   
frantically, connecting with the arms holding the pillow (?) over my face, but the force didn't  
diminish. I heard Oracle yell, and then felt a charge lash through my body. The pillow fell   
away, and I could see Oracle in the doorway out of the corner of my eye and a man in dark   
clothing near the foot of the bed, wearing some sort of ski mask. The man dove for her, but   
she managed to sidestep him and drive her knee into his gut. Then somehow, she tripped, and   
the man fled out the door. Oracle jumped to her feet and helped me up to a sitting position.   
  
"Are you all right? I didn't mean to slam you too," she said.   
  
"I think so. Did you get a good look at him?"   
  
"No. I woke up when I sensed a stranger in the house. He was expecting you to be alone, that   
much I got. But he was able to block my efforts to read him, and he was able to shunt off the   
energy from the slam. He had to be one of the others."   
  
"From the warehouse?"   
  
"Yeah, but... I didn't recognize the aura. It's... it's like someone tried to overwrite and   
did a piss poor job of it."   
  
"How do you mean?"   
  
"He's sensitive, but he was programmed to be aggressive. Some sort of soldier program, maybe?  
The two parts are colliding head on almost constantly, and it's painful so he keeps trying to   
reconcile them, and that makes him act in weird ways."   
  
"Do you remember anyone who you thought was particularly sensitive? Someplace we could start   
looking?"   
  
"We were all sensitive, that's what gives us are ability, our feelings for other people. And   
everyone there was pretty messed up. Being a lab rat is bad enough, but when you have not only  
your own suffering to deal with but also what everyone else is going through... There was one   
guy, he must have been there for decades. The first time I felt him, I couldn't stop throwing   
up, his mind was that sick." She stopped, and said, "I'm sorry. I have no right to burden you  
with my problems, not when you have Mulder to find and the baby to worry about."   
  
"The baby. He was after my baby?!?!" What's wrong with my baby? My God, is it a hybrid? Is   
it not human? Are they doing this to just to hurt Mulder?   
  
"It's not a for sure, just a best guess," she said, trying to soothe me.   
  
She stood up, I grabbed my gun from the nightstand, and we went out into the living room, with   
myself in the lead. Nothing appeared to have been touched except for the lock and chain on the  
front door. The chain had snapped and the deadbolt was hanging loosely from its socket.   
  
"Are we going over to Agent Doggett's?" Oracle asked.   
  
"Well, we can't stay here," I said. I went over to the phone and called the police.  
***************************************************************************************  
  
I answered the phone about 90% still asleep. It took me a good ten minutes to understand what   
Agent Scully was telling me, but once I got the gist I found some clothes and my car keys and   
drove right over. The place was already crawling with cops plus Skinner, who seemed to be   
everywhere at once. Agent Scully still seemed pretty upset, and Oracle was sitting beside her   
on the couch with her knees tucked up under her chin, seemingly at a loss for what to do.   
  
"Agent Doggett," Skinner motioned me over. "Definite signs of a forced entry, no fingerprints,  
paramedics checked Scully out, she's going to be fine."   
  
"And the kid?"   
  
"She's pretty quiet, but doesn't seem to have any injuries."   
  
"Is something bothering you, sir?"   
  
"Agent Scully has again refused protection. Both she and the girl are walking targets, and   
after two attacks in one day... I just don't see how getting one or both of them taken or   
killed is going to do them or Agent Mulder any good."   
  
"We're not doing anybody any good sitting in a jail cell either," Agent Scully said, coming up   
behind me.   
  
"No, we're not," Oracle agreed.   
  
"You don't seem sure," Skinner said.   
  
"I'm not even sure of my own name at 3 am. If you want to wait until tomorrow for the official  
answer, that's fine, but I can tell you now that it will be the same," Oracle responded.   
  
"Hotel room?" Skinner suggested resignedly.   
  
"I have a spare bedroom, if..." I suggested. Agent Scully nodded, and Oracle looked as though   
she would fall asleep standing up if I took any longer. They each grabbed a few things, and we  
headed back to my place and fell asleep.  
  
I woke up the next morning to the smell of eggs cooking. I was puzzled at first, then I   
remembered last night. I found my shirt and went into the kitchen, expecting to find Agent   
Scully. It was the kid.   
  
"I didn't know you could cook," I said.   
  
"Neither did I. I found a cookbook, and scrambled eggs didn't sound too hard. I guess we'll   
know for sure after we try them."   
  
"Great." Nothing like a case of food poisoning to start the day off right.   
  
Agent Scully shuffled in, covering a yawn with her hand. She paused and said, "Isn't that   
Mulder's shirt?"   
  
"What, this?" Oracle asked, holding out the edge of a well worn maroon Georgetown T shirt. "I   
guess it's his. I took it from his place last night."   
  
"When?" Agent Scully said suspiciously.   
  
"What, you didn't notice?" Oracle responded playfully, as she dished out a serving of eggs and   
handed them to Agent Scully.   
  
We finished breakfast without speaking (the eggs actually were pretty good,) and after I had   
done the dishes I found myself sitting cross legged on my living room floor with Oracle   
directly across from me.   
  
"Now what?" I asked.   
  
"Now we try to untangle the messages Mulder's been sending you from everything else you keep up  
there. Close your eyes and concentrate on your breathing. Try to empty your mind." Oh, like   
hypnosis. Maybe she should fish out my father's antique watch. "It's called meditation, not   
hypnosis. And you're supposed to be emptying your head, not filling it with stimuli. Or in   
your case, sarcasm."   
  
I waited another few seconds, and said, "This isn't working."   
  
"Not if you won't let it, it won't. What are you afraid of?"   
  
"I'm not afraid of anything, I just don't want to waste my time with a bunch of hooey."   
  
"Nothing's a waste of time if you expect to get out of it what you put into it." She crossed   
her arms and looked at me intently. I could almost feel her willing me to try harder.   
  
"What the hell are you doing?" I asked.   
  
"Sorry. I'll try to help you a little more actively this time," she said, holding out her   
hands. I held mine out as well, and she turned my hands palms up and placed hers on top of   
mine palms down. I closed my eyes again. This won't work, but hey, at least she can't say I   
didn't try...  
  
It felt as though my brain had snapped in two. I could feel myself spinning around inside my   
head like I was in a washing machine, or a back seat driver to a train wreak. I felt myself   
hit a metal deck and crumple up.   
  
"I have him." No, not metal. Concrete. But why would the spaceship...? No, not a spaceship.  
A wormhole brought us here; they're capable of cutting across vast distances in only a few   
minutes. The Philadelphia project succeeded! I didn't have much energy to reflect on that   
discovery, because I was clutching my stomach, staring at the bounty hunter's shoes while I   
retched up whatever remained of dinner and maybe part of a lung for dessert.   
  
"Never thought you could be that stupid, Mulder. But you just keep right on surprising me," I   
heard a voice behind me say. Krychek. I didn't even have to look up.   
  
"Agent Mulder is not the only one who has exercised poor judgment," that smooth, oily voice   
said behind me. Smoking Man Spender, looking at least twenty years younger. But I would know   
that voice and that cloud of smoke anywhere.   
  
Krychek laughed bitterly. "So that's how. You sold us out, in return for your life."   
  
Spender took a long drag on his cigarette and smiled. "You had your chance, and you betrayed   
me. You chose your own way, instead of what I had planned for you. If you'd only listened,   
you would still have your freedom."   
  
"And Mulder? What kind of deal are you making with him?"   
  
"That's not for you to know. Enjoy what little time you have left." The bounty hunter took   
Krychek out of the room. Spender pulled a chair over in front of me and sat down. He then   
took a gun out of his coat and placed it on his lap, with the barrel pointed right at the top   
of my head.   
  
"Taking the honor yourself?" I said with a bitter laugh.   
  
"That depends on you."   
  
"You're giving me a choice?"   
  
"That's right," he said with an oily smile.   
  
"Since when did you become a believer in democracy?"   
  
He smiled and took another drag from his cigarette. "I admire your courage, Agent Mulder.   
However, I do have one question that needs answering before your fate is determined. Is it   
worth sacrificing everything to save one life out of billions?"   
  
"I guess that depends on the life..."  
  
I came crashing back out of whatever I was in so hard that I got the wind knocked out of me. I  
couldn't move.   
  
"Agent Doggett!!" Agent Scully yelled, shaking me. I managed to wave her off, and I sat up,   
coughing in spasms. Oracle came up with a glass of water.   
  
"I'm sorry I had to pull you out so hard, but you stopped breathing, you were so far in."   
  
"Into what?" I wheezed, taking the glass.   
  
"Into a meditative state. I've never seen anyone fall in so easily and so deeply before."   
  
"You never said it was dangerous," I said with a touch of worry.   
  
"I've never seen anyone as susceptible as you before. That must be why Mulder can somehow   
communicate with you and not someone he had a stronger connection with. How long have you been  
having these dreams?"   
  
"I don't know. Almost as soon as I started work on the X Files."   
  
"You've been putting him off for months? No wonder you fell right in; he's getting desperate."  
  
"Do you remember what happened while you were under?" Agent Scully asked me.   
  
"Yeah," I said with a puzzled look.   
  
"This isn't like hypnosis where I snap my fingers and he wakes up. We're trying to help him to  
remember, not forget," Oracle said.   
  
Agent Scully grabbed my shoulders and looked intently into my eyes. "Can you think of anything  
at all that would help us?" she said forcefully, giving me a slight shake with each word.   
  
"Concrete floor and walls. Rust, green mold all over everything."   
  
"Anything else?" she insisted.   
  
"No."   
  
"Think... Hard."   
  
"No, nothing more than what I told you."   
  
"We have to put him under again," she insisted to Oracle.   
  
"He needs time to recuperate."   
  
"We've already lost too much time!!!" Agent Scully screamed, jumping to her feet.   
  
"IF YOU PUT HIM UNDER AGAIN RIGHT NOW YOU'LL KILL HIM!!!!" Oracle said forcefully. I had never  
seen anyone that angry, I swear you could see her emotion seething off of her in waves. For   
five terrible seconds, I thought Agent Scully was going to press it and I was going to have to   
pry the two of them apart, but instead Agent Scully turned, got her coat, and walked toward the  
door.   
  
"Fine. If you want to play nursemaid, be my guest. Give me a call when you want to get back   
to finding Mulder." She slammed the door behind her.   
  
"She doesn't have a car. Maybe I should offer to give her a ride," I said.   
  
"She won't take a ride from anybody right now. She's too proud," said Oracle. The anger was   
gone like someone had flicked a switch. "I just didn't want her hurting you, that's all. I   
feel bad about losing my temper."   
  
"Any idea where she's going?"   
  
"Doesn't matter," she said softly.  
****************************************************************************************  
  
Who the hell does she think she is? She doesn't give a damn about finding Mulder. She's just   
using us to stay out of social services. I bet she'll drag it out as long as possible. And   
Doggett, my God, he doesn't even know Mulder! He's just another assignment, something to be   
completed so it doesn't damage his beautiful record! Well, if I have to walk over every square  
inch of this country to get to Mulder, then so be it. I was picking at the vinyl on the bus   
seat in front of me, and I forced myself to stop. I had to switch buses a hundred times before  
I finally got to headquarters.   
  
I marched right up to the desk and requisitioned a car. I tapped on the desk impatiently as I   
waited for the paper work and keys, then I marched purposefully down to the garage. I sat   
inside the car, pulled the seat forward, and was about to shut the door when a hand caught it.  
  
"Where are you going, Agent Scully?" Skinner snapped.   
  
"To find Mulder," I retorted.   
  
"Doggett came up with something?"   
  
"They're just wasting their time. I'm going out on my own." I started the car, but Skinner   
reached over, turned off the ignition, and took the keys. "Hey," I said, jumping up.   
  
"Scully!!!" Skinner said, holding me by the shoulders and pushing me against the car. He   
continued, "You are being irrational. You haven't any idea where to begin, and driving off by   
yourself when people are trying to kill you is,... it's just crazy."   
  
"But I do have an idea where to start looking." Skinner stepped back and appraised me   
curiously. "Krychek was there. He was a prisoner..."   
  
"Scully."   
  
"...but I don't doubt that that sneaky bastard talked them into letting him go somehow. Find   
him, and we find Mulder. Please help me, sir. You must have some idea where he is, where he   
might be, a number I could call, anything!"   
  
Skinner sighed, and said, "All right. I'll see what I can find. But until then, you are not   
to go anywhere alone. If you really don't want to go back to Agent Doggett's, I'll have an   
agent escort you home."   
  
"Thank you, sir."  
  
The agent who escorted me home was a younger agent, fresh out of the academy. We talked a   
little bit about Quantico on the way home, and I managed to work up enough civility to thank   
him for the ride. Someone had been nice enough to fix the door to my apartment. They even   
managed to get the deadbolt back in. I reminded myself to change the lock as soon as I was   
able. Although I was fairly certain that the man last night meant to kill me and not rob,   
there were a few little knickknacks missing from around the house, like my paperweight, a   
pencil with the FBI logo stamped on it, and the laces out of some old running shoes I had left   
in the bathroom.   
  
"Great. We're harboring a klepto," I said, tossing the shoes in my closet. The phone rang,   
and I went to go answer it.   
  
"It could be worse, I could take things with resale value, instead of just personal interest,"   
Oracle said.   
  
"What could possibly interest you about old frayed shoelaces?" I said.   
  
"I've never had shoelaces."   
  
"Are you calling because you're bored, or do you actually have something?"   
  
"Doggett picked up another snippet from Mulder. We didn't even have to put him under. He said  
Mulder got a quick glimpse while he was traveling, and saw trees."   
  
"Trees? What kind of trees?"   
  
"He didn't recognize them. It wasn't a forest, per se. They were too evenly spaced."   
  
"A grove?"   
  
"That's what he seemed to think."   
  
"Any idea where?"   
  
"Neither of us are tree experts. And he didn't get more than a glimpse. If Mulder really did   
go through a wormhole, they could be anywhere."   
  
"Damn." Come on, Mulder. Your clues suck. "Any insights from you?"   
  
"Mulder's disappearance had something to do with the baby, I'm almost sure of it. Don't wait   
around for Krychek, he's not a player in this stage of the game."   
  
"Gee, do you think you could possibly be a little more vague?"   
  
"Do you have any idea how many choices people make in one day? Compound that by multiple days   
and billions of people and you have a probability table waiting to explode. You're lucky I can  
predict anything with any kind of accuracy at all." I nodded. There was some muttering   
between the two of them on the other end of the line. "Doggett's ready to try again, if you   
want to come back over."   
  
"What about all that talk about safety?"   
  
"I don't like it, but Doggett's convinced we're close, and I'm tempted to agree with him."   
  
"I'll be there." I smiled and hung up the phone.  
  
I went down to my car, and noticed a figure sitting on the hood. I pulled my gun, and the man   
spoke.   
  
"You can come out, Scully. I'm not armed." Krychek.   
  
I went over, cautiously. "Did Skinner call you?"   
  
"I heard through the grapevine that you might be looking for me," he said, casually.   
  
"Where's Mulder?"   
  
"I don't know."   
  
"WHERE IS HE?"   
  
"I told you, I don't know! I saw him, briefly, but they took me out, beat me and dumped me for  
dead."   
  
"Where was this?"   
  
"You're kidding, right? I was fucking delirious. It could have anywhere from Washington to   
West Virginia and I wouldn't have known the difference. All I saw was miles and miles of the   
same blurry shit. When I woke up, I was in the hospital here in D.C."   
  
"You're lying," I said, cocking the hammer.   
  
"I've got the lumps and the cracked ribs to prove it! I swear, I'm not lying." I glared at   
him, and eased the hammer back into position. "That's not what I'm here about. It's about the  
kid."   
  
"How do you know about her?"   
  
"What, are you kidding? The consortium created her. They found out about these kids with   
talents, rounded them up and used them for spying, biological weapons, soldiers, you name it.   
She was the evilest one there, I'm telling you. They kept her isolated, but still things kept   
going wrong. Equipment was being sabotaged, people kept coming up with injuries that they   
didn't remember getting, everyone was scared. I kept thinking, if she was so powerful, why   
didn't she just take some guard's mind, force him to let her out and then make him forget that   
he ever saw her? But when you looked into her eyes, you could see that she liked it. She   
liked being around all that torture, and she liked causing it. Scully, she's just using you to  
find the others, and when she does, she'll finish you off."   
  
"The others in the project?"   
  
"They're all loyal to her. For God sake, even the aliens were afraid of her. She had their   
powers without any of their DNA; ruined their claim to superiority. But they couldn't kill   
her, because without her DNA the hybridization couldn't work."   
  
"They used her DNA to create hybrids?" "Not cloning, just patching. Alien DNA has 6 bases,   
instead of just four. Her DNA was able to combine alien DNA with human DNA, fix up the base   
pairs so that they matched." He moved around me, keeping one eye on my gun. "Stay away from   
her, Scully. You're in enough trouble already." Then he slipped quickly into the shadows.   
  
I got into my car and shut the door. I didn't know who to believe, but I promised myself I   
would keep my eyes open.  
  
Doggett answered the door when I arrived. His face was an awful shade of gray.   
  
"Are you sure you're up to this?" I asked.   
  
"Do I have much of a choice?" Doggett said, ushering me in.   
  
Oracle was seated on the floor, eying me. I sat self consciously on the couch and crossed my   
ankles. I met her cool, unblinking stare.   
  
"Keep an eye on him. If he looks bad physically, let me know and I'll pull him back out," she   
said. Doggett already looked bad physically. "You're sure," Oracle said.   
  
Doggett nodded. "I'd better lie down," he said. Once he was comfortable, he looked at both of  
us. "Watch my back," he said, before he licked his lips, swallowed, and closed his eyes.   
  
Oracle sat near his feet, hands resting lightly on his ankles. I swallowed, trying to banish   
my nervousness. How could I allow Doggett to be vulnerable, to trust her, if...   
  
"If you don't trust him with anything else, how could you trust the 'rat bastard' on this?"   
Oracle asked me. I felt guilty. "Good," Oracle said before turning back to Doggett and   
shutting her eyes.   
***************************************************************************************  
  
I didn't feel the fall this time. I just closed my eyes, and was there. Spender took another   
long breath, and blew the smoke out above my head.   
  
"Agent Scully," he said. I glanced up. "She is vital to our friends, for various reasons.   
However, they've agreed to let her live in exchange for you. If you agree to cooperate, Agent   
Scully will live. If you don't, I end it now and she takes your place. It's a fair deal,   
Agent Mulder. A life for a life."   
  
"What guarantees do I have that you'll keep your word?"   
  
He smiled and took a puff of his cigarette. "You have to have faith, Agent Mulder. Faith that  
things will turn out for the best. Perhaps while they are searching, they'll find a cure. For  
you, and others like you."   
  
I laughed, bitterly and incredulously. "I'll never leave here alive. A life for a life, isn't  
that what you said?"   
  
"Never say never, Agent Mulder." I looked at my hands, bleeding and torn, while Cancer Man   
took another puff. "So, do we have a deal?" he asked me.   
  
"Yeah," I said, with a touch of defiance.   
  
"Good. I'll make sure Agent Scully is well taken care of until your return." The bounty   
hunter came back in and dragged me off to another room, where Krychek was strapped to a table.   
The bounty hunter strapped me into the table next to him.   
  
Krychek said mockingly, "So, what did they offer you? Money? Power? The chance to serve your  
country?" I didn't say anything. After a long pause, he asked in a curious, almost innocent   
tone. "Was it worth it?"   
  
I stared up at the lights, the metal beams, the articulated arms that hung uselessly like   
spiders from the ceiling. "I'll let you know."  
  
I came falling back out with a start. It felt like I had put my tongue in a light socket.   
Agent Scully was kissing me. I was startled, then I realized she was giving me mouth to mouth.  
I sat up, pushing her off.   
  
"Are you all right?" the two women said at once.   
  
"Yeah," I said, trying to get the taste of Agent Scully out of my mouth. It wasn't bad,   
necessarily, but the fact that she's my partner...   
  
"Sorry about the shock. I couldn't think of anything else to do," Oracle said.   
  
"It's all right," I said.   
  
"Sorry," Agent Scully murmured. I nodded.   
  
"Were there any more details this time?" Oracle asked.   
  
"You were there, reading my mind," I said.   
  
"I can't process that much info at once. It's like still pictures, with running commentary   
filling in the gaps. You're the only one who has the whole thing."   
  
I thought back through the images. "There was something painted on one of the walls in the   
room with all the tables. Very faint."   
  
"What did it look like?" Agent Scully asked me.   
  
"It was green, lumpy, with a blue squiggle through the middle."   
  
"A logo?"   
  
"Yeah, that must have been it. There was some lettering around the outside too. A v,   
something that looked like an l, another word that ended in ga, another word that had that   
Spanish n with the little squiggle above it, and another word with ut in the middle."   
  
"It was some sort of factory," Oracle said.   
  
"Yeah, definitely a factory," I concurred.   
  
"Anything else?" Agent Scully pressed.   
  
"There were funnels hanging from the ceiling, I could see them out of the corner of my eye."   
  
"For dumping liquid," Agent Scully said.   
  
"Or grain," Oracle said.   
  
"We'll start there. We're looking for defunct factories with a Spanish name that had some sort  
of liquid associated or agricultural processing."  
  
We hit the research. We called around to different state offices asking about old   
corporate charters, called to find out if the logo we saw was trademarked, and called the   
Commerce Commission and the FDA to see if there were any answers there. We kept compiling   
lists of possible companies and passed them around to each other to double check. After 22   
hours, I was beat. Agent Scully was irritable from all that coffee, and I could hear Oracle's   
stomach growling from all the way across the room.   
  
Agent Scully passed me a list and sighed. "I'm going for some more coffee," she said as she   
shuffled out of the room. Great, just what we need.   
  
"See if you can pull up logos on these, will you?" I said, passing the list off to Oracle. She  
muttered something about a slacker, but I just thumbed through the list that Oracle had given   
back to me. I flipped through the logos, and suddenly stopped.   
  
"That's it," I announced, as Agent Scully returned with her giant mug o' coffee.   
  
"What?" she said, as she hurried over.   
  
"That's it. Valle Allegra Pinon nuts, located in New Mexico."   
  
"Happy Valley Nut House. That's where the others are," Oracle said with a grin. We both   
looked at her. "I knew there was a reason I should stick with you," she said, picking up her   
things.  
  
Oracle couldn't sit still the entire flight. At least she didn't try to pester us. I tried to  
take a nap, but with the stewardess waking us up every hour to offer us another drink combined   
with the passengers behind us who had already had more than enough to drink kept me awake most   
of the flight. Agent Scully looked stressed out, probably the aftereffects of the coffee. I   
felt happy, for both Agent Scully and the kid. They were finally getting their first real lead  
in finding their friends.   
  
We landed, got our baggage, rented a car, and checked into a motel, with the agreement to leave  
as soon as the sun was up. Oracle was still wired; I didn't envy Agent Scully having to share   
a room with her. Oracle had been humming snippets of different songs to herself after we got   
off the plane, and was humming a bit from "Stairway to Heaven" as she tossed her bags on the   
bed. Agent Scully was giving me the evil eye; they had been all out of the medium sized cars   
so we had to squeeze into a compact, and she wasn't looking forward to spending all night with   
a hyper teenager.   
  
"Good night, Agent Scully," I said, going into my room.   
  
"Good luck, you mean," Agent Scully said, as the sound of the TV came blasting out the open   
door. I offered a consoling smile and shut my door. I heard Agent Scully through the wall   
say, "Oracle, give it a rest."  
********************************************************************************************  
  
Oracle turned off the TV, but I don't think she slept at all because I could hear her rustling   
around all night. She had circles under her eyes the next morning. I gave her an, "I told you  
so" look, which she took with a good natured nod. Agent Doggett appeared freshly pressed,   
dressed, and ready to go.   
  
We picked up breakfast at a quick mart on the way out of town. I had my usual water and bagel,  
but I almost choked when I saw Doggett and Oracle's ideas of breakfast. She was carrying a big  
gulp and a package of twinkies, and he was carrying coffee and a serving of nachos.   
  
"Are you sure you don't want me to drive?" I asked him.   
  
"I'm fine," he said, setting the nachos in the console between our seats. The drive was longer  
than I expected. Doggett managed to finish the nachos without spilling a drop of cheese on his  
immaculately clean suit. I took a glance in the back seat. Even though Oracle had worked her   
way through 32 ounces of caffeine and those crème sugar logs, she was sound asleep. I shook my  
head and let out a small laugh.   
  
Doggett glanced in the rear view mirror. "Caffeine puts her to sleep. Imagine that," he   
commented. "This is it. I can feel it," Doggett said to me.   
  
"Isn't that my line?" I asked him. He actually gave me an honest to goodness smile. I   
actually felt comfortable with him for the first time. We actually had the same goal, the same  
belief about the outcome. Is this what it was like for Mulder, when we finally saw eye to eye?  
  
"That's our turnoff," I said, pointing to a dirt road.   
  
We drove into a long abandoned stand of pinon trees. They stretched endlessly on both sides.   
  
I started to feel a sense of foreboding. What if Mulder wasn't here? What if they moved him,   
or worse yet... I couldn't bring myself to think it.   
  
Doggett said, "It's going to be okay."   
  
We bumped up to the end of the road and stopped the car in front of an abandoned warehouse. It  
was made completely out of metal and wood, with all the windows broken along the top, the   
frames left suspending the roof which groaned in the slight wind. I turned to wake up Oracle,   
who had already gotten out of the car. She didn't seem the least bit perturbed by the   
structure's ghostly look, but went right up to the rusted hangar door.   
  
"Over here," Doggett said, indicating a human sized door around the side. The door wasn't   
locked; Doggett managed to open it with a good tug and it flew open and banged back and forth   
in the breeze. It was just as Doggett had described it. Metal roof, faded logo, funnels...   
But there were no tables, no bodies, nothing to suggest that anyone had been here since the   
factory had closed.   
  
"No," I said, picking up the remains of an old leather strap off one of the tables and twining   
it between my fingers.   
  
"Scully, Doggett," Oracle called from a catwalk, motioning us upstairs. There was a manager's   
office overlooking the plant. Doggett wrapped his hand in his suit jacket, broke the glass in   
the door, and opened it. The floor groaned ominously as we entered the room. I stepped back   
against the wall.   
  
"Stick to the edges," Oracle said.   
  
"Now what?" Doggett asked.   
  
"Behind there," she said, indicating a filing cabinet pushed against the back wall.   
  
Doggett came around one side, and I came around the other. We tried pushing it away from the   
wall. It slid forward a few inches, then a few more, then crashed through a weak spot in the   
floor. My arms circled wildly as I tried to keep myself from falling through the hole. Oracle  
caught me by one arm and Doggett by the other as the floor gave way. Oracle quickly circled   
the hole to Doggett, and they pulled me up and sat me on the narrow ledge they were standing   
on.   
  
"I'm fine," I said, looking at my feet hanging into the hole and the floor several dozen feet   
below.   
  
"Agent," Doggett said, pointing. There was a door behind where the cabinet used to be.   
  
"That's it," Oracle said.   
  
Doggett crept around the hole and tried the handle. It was unlocked, miraculously. We slipped  
around the hole carefully, I with far more caution than Oracle, and we entered the door behind   
Doggett.  
  
The stairs were steel, not wood, thank God. They ended at a blank wall, with an opening to the  
left. There were the remains of a guard station, and a door made of steel bars behind it, left  
hanging open. There were halls of rooms, all left standing empty, with long abandoned medical   
equipment that must have been state of the art thirty years ago or more.   
  
"They left in a hurry," Doggett said.   
  
Oracle was walking from room to room, touching various objects and fighting back tears. "I can  
still feel them here," she said softly. "So much emotion..." She walked quietly down the   
hall.   
  
I followed her. "Do you sense Mulder?"   
  
She didn't answer, but instead forced open the door to one room. She knelt, removed a brick   
from the wall and pulled out a collection of old papers.   
  
"I got people's names, as many as I could, and wrote them down on scraps I managed to pull from  
the wastebaskets or cover sheets off of reports. So I could find them, or if someone found us   
they would at least know what happened," Oracle said, handing me the stack of papers.   
  
I could see the depth of despair in her eyes. I rifled through the sheets. So many names...   
So many tortured souls... She reached in again and pulled out a photograph from the hiding   
place. "I only got one group picture."   
  
It was an old picture, taken in black and white, with individuals between 5 and 25, all   
dressed in 1970's clothing. A girl who looked like Oracle was right in the middle of the   
picture, standing between a young man about her age with dark hair and a young girl with dark   
wavy hair. My breath caught, and I looked up at her questioningly. "Yes, that's me. That was  
taken in 1973. I age well, don't I?" she said in a choked voice.   
  
"How old are you?" I said in empathetic astonishment. I was finding it hard to breathe.   
  
She shook her head slightly. "It doesn't matter." She pointed to the boy and said, "Xander.  
He was in the cell next door. We were close enough to hear each other. We talked a lot. The   
girl is Sammi. She was only here a few months before they took her away again. She didn't   
remember anything about her family... they took it from her..." Her voice trailed off.   
  
"I'm going to show these to Agent Doggett. Are you going to be okay?" She nodded.   
  
"Scully," she called after me. I stopped. "Don't be hard on him. You're all he has left,"   
she said. I nodded, uncertainly, and went down the hall.  
  
I wandered through the maze of hallways, and found Doggett standing in a doorway, still as a   
statue.   
  
"Agent Doggett?" I said, approaching him.   
  
He stepped out of the way with an unreadable expression on his face. I looked in. The room   
was completely empty, except for a patch of cement that had been freshly poured. It had only   
been setting a few days, if that.   
  
"Help me," he said in a tight voice, handing me a sturdy metal bar.   
  
"Doggett, we need to get a team in here. They may have buried evidence, papers, equipment..."   
  
His gaze stilled my voice and riveted me to the spot. "Help me," he said again, and this time   
the voice was a command.   
  
The concrete hadn't set right, the structure was damp and water had kept it relatively soft.   
Still, it was hard work. Doggett chipped away at it like a man possessed, with blow after blow  
with an eerie machinelike precision. After what seemed like forever, we started to expose   
something. Doggett worked with an increased fervor, choosing his blows more precisely and   
chipping away more delicately, but still with that same persistence. I could see the object   
taking shape. No, it can't be. It can't be. Oh, please dear God no. No, it can't be him.   
It can't be.   
  
"No!" I screamed, dropping the bar and collapsing to the floor.   
  
A body, horribly mutilated, wearing Mulder's clothing... Oh, please God, don't let it be   
true... Don't let it be true. I looked up at Agent Doggett for any sign, any hope. His face   
was stunned, hopeless.   
  
"They've killed him," he said in a horribly flat voice.  
  



	3. Bad guy caught, guy gets girl, etc.

Disclaimers: See Sec.1  
  
References: Tooms, Little Green Men, Max, S.R. 819, Goblins (X Files novel), Ascension.   
All others cover multiple episodes.  
  
Oracle, pt. 3  
  
Nothing. The link, whatever it was, was gone. No visions, no predictions, no idea where to   
go, what to do. Nothing but a mutilated body still partly encased in cement and a partner I   
had no idea how to comfort. I walked behind her and put my hand on her shoulder. Her breath   
hissed, but she didn't move, didn't look up. I could feel her shoulders shaking, but couldn't   
hear the sobs through the roaring in my ears. Impulsively, quickly, I fell to my knees and put  
my arms around her. She turned her head and sobbed loudly into my coat. I just held her.   
Anyone would have done, right then. Just having someone there, anyone there... My mind   
emptied, my soul emptied. I had failed. For the first time, when it really mattered, when a   
man's life was at stake... I promised her... I promised. And it didn't make a damn bit of   
difference. I felt Oracle in the doorway, but I didn't move. I couldn't. She came up and put  
her slight, thin arms around us both, resting her chin lightly on my shoulder. The shadows   
flickered from the dying bulb. They were the only things in the room that moved.   
  
Scully was the first one to move. "We need to get a team in here. I want to be sure," she   
said, wiping the tears away with her hand.   
  
"Okay," I said.   
  
Of course. Science. Have to be sure. But I was already sure. Oracle released us and curled   
her knees up under her chin.   
  
"I'll go out and call," I said.   
  
"They're still here," Oracle said. I wasn't sure she had spoken, it sounded more like a voice   
from a memory than an actual person.   
  
"Their pain. It's still here, after all this time," Scully said. It was neither a statement   
nor a question.   
  
"Not so long ago," Oracle said. She got to her feet and glided out the door. We followed.   
She made no sound, her figure flashing with every flicker of the overhead lights and then all   
but disappearing into the gloom as she moved down the hall.   
  
A faint smell permeated the air, and got stronger as we approached the doorway where Oracle was  
standing. I looked in. All I saw were bodies. Dozens and dozens of bodies, badly charred,   
stacked on top of each other, pressed against the doorframe as they clawed over each other to   
get out. Light, screams, shots, yelling, the flames rising higher, the smoke getting thicker,   
nothing but dust and darkness and words... She gently ran a finger over the arm of what must   
have been a child, which promptly disintegrated into dust.   
  
"I'm all they have now," she said.  
  
The forensic team was very prompt. They finished digging out the body, collecting what little   
trace evidence there was. Kersh called, they must have notified him, something about us   
disturbing a crime scene, I don't know, I hung up. We had them ship Mulder's body to D.C.,   
where the body would be autopsied. They chatted with us, with each other, giving useless   
information, commentary, even joking, implying that we were incompetent. Yet even the almighty  
forensics team was stunned into silence when they saw the other room. Oracle was right, they   
were still here, and even individuals as jaded as they were could feel it. Scully was still in  
shock, but she managed to answer questions when the investigating agents showed up. When they   
asked about the charred bodies, she just handed them a stack of crushed papers of all different  
sizes from inside her coat. There were names written on them, in tiny, precise handwriting; a   
laundry list of the dead. Oracle was seated on a piece of debris. She had vomited; the smell   
was still on her, but she didn't seem to mind. I felt like taking charge, attacking the team,   
letting it all out, but I couldn't seem to find the energy. I think one of the agents drove us  
home; I don't remember. My stomach was empty, the room next door was silent, and my sleep was   
dreamless. I didn't know to be grateful.  
  
We flew back the next day. No one spoke. Scully handed me the old photograph and pointed to   
the girl in the middle. I knew I should have been surprised, but somehow I wasn't. I handed   
the picture back to Oracle, who placed it lovingly inside her bag where it wouldn't get crushed.  
  
Skinner had already been brought up to speed. He offered to keep Oracle safe while we went   
home to rest.   
  
"With all due respect, sir, I'm here to perform the autopsy on Agent Mulder," Agent Scully said.  
  
"Scully," he started.   
"Please sir. I wouldn't feel right if anyone else did it. I at least owe him that."   
  
Skinner wanted to protest, but he just nodded. "I'll keep the body until tomorrow..."   
  
"Now," she replied.   
  
"Agent..."   
  
"Now."   
  
"Agent Doggett?"   
  
"I'll stay," I said.   
  
Scully was very professional, very thorough. The "man in question" had been in some sort of   
confrontation with an individual with a knife. His right arm had been restrained, and he was   
stabbed several times in the face, chest, and arms before finally dying from a single gunshot   
wound to the chest at point blank range. Scully also took a tissue sample for DNA testing. I   
stood silently against the wall, taking pictures when instructed.   
  
"See that the film gets developed," was all she said to me as she took off the rubber gloves   
and went into the prep room to take off the scrubs. I dropped off the film at developing and   
went home.  
  
I called Scully later on that night to check up on her. She was subdued, but insisted that she  
was "fine" and just needed some time to herself, but "not to worry". I went to bed, hoping I   
didn't dream again. I should have been so lucky.   
  
It was dark. They had moved me from the large room the first day I was there and every day   
after that it was dark. I could hear Krychek straining and grunting next to me. My torso felt  
as though it had been completely hollowed out. My face was burning. I heard something that   
sounded like a zipper being fed through a paper shredder. Then Krychek let out a bark of   
laughter. Then he started cackling, excitedly and wickedly. I then heard shuffling, various   
bangs and thumps and the sound of fabric sliding over metal. The racket intensified, then   
stopped. I could hear Krychek laughing softly to himself. Then I felt an impact and the   
pressure of weight on my table and he whispered in my ear.   
  
"Goodbye, Mulder. I hope that deal was worth the paper you signed it on."   
  
"Krychek," I rasped. The weight on the table lifted, and the air was silent. "Krychek, don't   
you leave me here," I tried to yell, but it barely came out as a whisper.   
  
I heard a door open and shut. I strained against my bonds. The straps dug into my already   
mutilated flesh, reopening the wounds and causing them to bleed, but beyond that it did nothing.  
I tried to struggle, to strain, but my body wouldn't respond. It was like it had given up,   
just to spite my mind. Then an ear piercing noise echoed through the hallways. I smirked to   
myself. So, the rat bastard tripped the alarm. So much for being big and bad. There were   
footsteps, yelling and shouting. I could see the outline of the door out of the corner of my   
eye. Light, emergency lights, maybe? Then the door opened, blinding me. The figure burst   
forward and started to loosen the straps around my arms and legs.   
  
"Fuck it," Krychek said. I stared at him. "I've got no love for you, Mulder, but it doesn't   
seem right to let you burn to death," he continued. I got to my feet shakily, holding my   
stomach. "I know the way out. Keep up or you're on your own," he said, darting for the door.   
  
I lurched forward. The ground was swaying under me. I saw the flames down at the end of the   
hall, heard screams. "What about them?" I said, diving for Krychek's arm.   
  
"It's too late for them," he said, pulling forward and almost spilling me to the ground. I   
clung tenaciously to his arm. "They're at ground zero. You get that? They wanted them dead.  
They'll only die from the burns anyway if you waste time on them," he said, pulling free from   
my grip.   
  
I took a quick look back and stumbled after him, trying to avoid the debris and items from   
different rooms that was now littering the halls. We were almost to the guard station when a   
man yelled, "Freeze!"   
  
Krychek pushed himself harder, burst through the door and dove behind the counter for cover as   
the man fired. The bullet grazed my side. I tripped and fell head over heels to the ground.   
I saw Krychek come out from behind the counter and flee up the stairs. I turned over and tried  
to sit only to find the barrel of a gun pointed in my face.  
******************************************************************************************  
  
Doggett looked like hell when he came into work the next morning. I was in our office,   
sipping slowly from a cup of coffee.   
  
"Any results?" he asked, seating himself on the edge of the desk next to me.   
  
"No," I said, taking another sip.   
  
"Shouldn't you give yourself some time?" he asked.   
  
"I'm not taking any time until I'm sure. We don't know that it was his body. It could have   
been any number of people, someone else on Oracle's list. We've been fooled before. I..."   
That hollow feeling could be due to something else. Not getting enough food for example. We   
don't know that it's him, for sure. We don't know for sure there isn't a Santa Claus,   
either... "I just want to be sure that it's him," I said, feeling the tears come.   
  
Doggett put an arm across my shoulders. I wanted to be comforted, but at the same time I was   
embarrassed, embarrassed to seem weak in front of Doggett. Just then the phone rang. Doggett   
answered it.   
  
"This is Agent Doggett. What? Yes, sir, we'll be down there right away." He hung up, and I   
looked at him questioningly. "That was AD Skinner. Someone just fired multiple rounds through  
his window with a semi automatic."   
  
"Are they all right?"   
  
"I don't know. We'd better get down there."  
  
Skinner's apartment building was completely cordoned off. There was already a crowd of   
onlookers, police, detectives, agents, and news media when we arrived. We flashed our badges   
and got in. The entire apartment was filled to the brim with law enforcement. Oracle's arm   
was being bandaged by a paramedic, and Skinner was holding a bag of ice to his forehead.   
  
"What happened, sir?" I asked. He waved his hand, indicating the sliding glass door on the   
balcony.   
  
"We were watching TV. We hit a commercial, and I got up to use the bathroom while Oracle made   
some popcorn. I was almost to the hall when she yelled something and tackled me. As soon as I  
hit the floor, the shots started."   
  
"How many rounds?" Doggett asked. Skinner shrugged.   
  
"72," Oracle piped up.   
  
"Must have come from across the street," Doggett continued, examining the glass from the door.  
  
The paramedic finished and stood up. I came over and crouched beside Oracle.   
  
"It was the same one who tried to kill you, Scully," she said.   
  
"Are you sure?"   
  
"I felt him, just as I stood up. I caught a glimpse of myself through his eyes. That's when I  
yelled, "Hit the deck" and tackled Skinner. Then the guy started shooting."   
  
"Is your arm all right?"   
  
"Just grazed. Skinner had it worse, he banged his head on some sort of metal art thing in the   
hall. He's going through an awful lot of trouble to make sure that we're all dead," she said.  
  
"You think he was the one who set the fire?"   
  
"Who else? He must have had helpers within the project to round everyone up, but he either   
couldn't get to me or decided to save me for himself."   
  
"But why? You said he was one of you."   
  
"Well, if we're all dead, then there is no one who has the power to stop him from doing   
whatever he has planned." She shook her head. "How could he have become so broken? I mean,   
my God, we were the only family we had," she said.   
  
"Agent Scully," Doggett said, motioning me over. I gave her arm a quick squeeze before joining  
him. "Judging from the angle of the glass, the shots must have been fired from the roof of   
that building over there," he said, pointing to a building across the way and slightly to our   
right.   
  
"Should we go check it out?" one of the detectives asked.   
  
"Yeah," Doggett said. I suddenly got the hint of an idea.   
  
"Why don't you stay here with them? I'm going to go consult with a few of Mulder's friends.   
See if they can shed any light on this."   
  
"I overheard you talking with her. If it is the same guy, then neither one of you is safe   
going anywhere alone."   
  
"I'm armed," I protested.   
  
"So was Skinner."   
  
"All right," I said, throwing my hands up. "I'll have them come to us," I added, stepping out   
into the hallway and placing the call on my cell phone.  
  
We checked into a hotel down the street and waited. Byers, Frohike and Langly materialized   
right on schedule.   
  
"We heard about the circus. What happened?" Langly said, as Frohike pulled the drapes closed.  
  
"Fan letter. We have a lot of admirers," Skinner said wryly.   
  
"I hear you," Frohike said.   
  
"What do you know about the government kidnapping psychics?" I asked them.   
  
"Project Clear Horizon," Langly said.   
  
"They've been kidnapping psychics ever since the crash at Roswell. Rumor has it they were   
using them to monitor alien activities, spy on foreign governments..." Byers began.   
  
"Create the perfect soldier, protect them from alien abduction, or just to keep them from   
selling national security secrets," Frohike continued.   
  
"It was the basis for all their work in genetics," Langly interjected.   
  
"And probably led to the creation of the first alien human hybrid," Byers finished.   
  
I glanced at Oracle for confirmation. "They're pretty with it. I'm impressed," she said.   
  
"Your new insider, Agent Scully?" Langly asked jokingly.   
  
"She's one of the psychics with the project you just described," I said slowly, holding my   
breath for the explosion of excitement I felt sure would follow that statement. I wasn't   
disappointed.   
  
"Whoa," Frohike said.   
  
"I didn't think they were still collecting," Langly said.   
  
"They aren't anymore," Oracle said softly. That sliced right through their jovial mood.   
  
"We found the warehouse where the project was located last week," Doggett said.   
  
"The bodies the FBI recovered," Byers said. Doggett nodded. They kept very quiet.   
  
"Sorry, kid," Frohike said.   
  
"Thanks," Oracle said.   
  
"But there was at least one other that got away," I said, breaking the silence.   
  
"Who?" Langly asked.   
  
"That's what we need your help to find out. This man, whoever he is, has attacked myself on   
one occasion and caused the shooting in Skinner's apartment today. We believe he was   
responsible for the deaths of the other psychics of Project Clear Horizon, and that he is   
trying to complete his work."   
  
"Do you have a list? Someplace we can start?" Byers asked.   
  
"I had a list. I gave it to the FBI in New Mexico to match up with victims," I said   
apologetically.   
  
"The doctors kept files on everyone. I didn't see them at the facility, but I know they must   
have backups somewhere," Oracle said.   
  
"So we're looking for a male. Anything else? Age, height?" Frohike asked.   
  
"He must have been relatively young. He seemed pretty strong when he held that pillow over my   
face," I said.   
  
"Physical appearance has nothing to do with age when it comes to us," Oracle said.   
  
"This is going to be fun," Langly said sarcastically.   
  
"Could we at least get your name, so we can eliminate you from the list?" Byers said.   
  
"Oracle. Sorry, I don't know my birth name." They fell silent again.   
  
"THE Oracle?" Langly said.   
  
"You've heard of her?" I asked.   
  
"Oh, yeah. A couple found a 3 year old kid by the side of the road in 1954. She stayed with   
them for two months, and word got around that she was some kind of holy woman. People of all   
religions drove hundreds of miles just to get healed by her or ask a question, and she never   
disappointed them. After that, she just disappeared," Byers said.   
  
"The first time I escaped. I managed to take the mind of a guard while I was being transported  
and forced him to let me go. After the story hit the press, it didn't take them long to find   
me. They caught me asleep, injected me with drugs, and took me back to the warehouse. They   
kept me isolated and drugged after that. It inhibited my powers enough to where I couldn't   
take minds or root through them and get the code," Oracle said.   
  
"One mystery solved," Frohike said.   
  
"I wish you wouldn't print that. This might be my last chance at a real life. I don't want   
anything to spoil it," Oracle said.   
  
"We won't," Byers said reassuringly. There was another pause. "Well, I guess we'll get   
started," Byers said, heading towards the door.   
  
"Hang in there," Frohike said.   
  
"If anybody wants Mexican food, I know this great place. Call me later on if you want the   
address," Langly said, following the other two out and shutting the door.   
  
"They're funny. Maybe I should go work for them after this blows over," Oracle said.   
  
"Forget it," Doggett said.   
  
My cell phone rang. "Scully."   
  
"Agent Scully? The DNA results you ordered are in."   
  
"And?"   
  
"We're not allowed to give the results over the phone."   
  
"Thank you. I'll be right there," I said, hanging up. "The results came in," I announced.   
  
"I'm coming with you," Doggett said.   
  
"I'm going too," Oracle said, standing up.   
  
"No, you're not," Skinner, Doggett, and I said at once.   
  
"If you are this man's target, it's safer if you stay here. We'll be back soon," I said, with   
a nod at Skinner.   
  
I felt a lead weight in my stomach all the way down to FBI headquarters. I knew what the   
results were going to say, but I kept hoping that they would say just the opposite. The agent   
at the lab handed me the results, and I quickly thumbed through them.   
  
"It's him," I said. Irrefutable, scientific proof that my partner, my best friend, the man I   
spent seven years with in a quest for the truth, was undeniably dead. "Did you double check   
the results?" I asked.   
  
"Just like you told us," the technician said. "I'm really sorry, Agent Scully," he said,   
before moving off back to his work.   
  
I couldn't cry. All my tears had been shed when I found that body. The lab report was just a   
confirmation of something that I already in my deepest of hearts had known.   
  
"I'm sorry, Agent Scully. I'm sorry I failed you," Doggett said.   
  
"You didn't fail. You did everything you could. It just... wasn't meant to be," I said.   
  
He nodded, but I could still see the responsibility weighing him down. "Let me drive you home.  
I'll call Skinner and let him know what happened," Doggett said.   
  
I nodded, and we stepped out into the hall.  
***************************************************************************************  
Skinner insisted I stay with Scully. I didn't want to leave them unprotected, but Skinner   
said he had already called for some agents to stand guard outside the door. Scully was   
unusually quiet. I expected more of a reaction from her, and it was making me nervous.   
  
"Should I call Langly about that Mexican food?" I asked her. She shrugged, taking off her   
shoes. "If you want to talk..." I said.   
  
"I knew what the results were going to be before I walked into that room. It was just a   
formality. I've already shed my tears for Mulder. We have a case to work." Her blue,   
determined eyes met mine. You're stronger than I am...   
  
"Skinner ordered you to take some time. One night won't hurt. He has two extra agents helping  
guard, and Oracle takes the well being of everyone around her very seriously. I'm sure they'll  
be all right," I said.   
  
"All right. Mexican food sounds good."   
  
I called Langly. He sounded thrilled to death to hear from us. I got in depth information on   
where the restaurant was, what dishes were the best, when all the cute waitresses worked,   
and... "if you drink three tazo grande margaritas and can still walk out, your next meal is   
free," he finished.   
  
"Thanks for the information," I said, trying to keep a straight face.   
  
"No problemo. Have fun," he said as he hung up.   
  
I could still feel the grin twitching at the corners of my mouth. "I got the address," I said.  
  
"Let's go," she responded.  
  
Calling the place a dive was being polite. The cracked walls were orange, the wooden tables   
and booths were painted a bright yellow that was peeling in places, and the tile was red in a   
past life but had over the years worn to a dark black. However, the servers were very   
friendly, and the aroma coming from the kitchen was delicious. Scully and I seated ourselves,   
took a menu, decided on an item, and I went up to the counter to order. I received a large   
stuffed burro and was told that the server would be right out with my food.   
  
I placed the burro on the edge of our table and sat down. I could barely see the top of   
Scully's head over it. I crouched down so I could see her below its belly, and at the same   
time Scully craned her head so she could see over it. The situation was so ridiculous that we   
both started laughing. Scully grabbed the burro and put it in her lap. I tried to start a   
conversation with her, but every time I opened my mouth we both started laughing again. The   
server showed up a few minutes later with our food.   
  
"Making friends with the burro, eh?" he said as he took the stuffed animal from Scully.   
  
"Just keeping him safe," she responded.   
  
"I appreciate that," he said with a smile as he walked away.   
  
The combination plate was excellent, and Scully's baja tacos didn't look that bad either.   
  
"I wish Langly had told us about this place sooner. Mulder would have loved it," she said.   
  
"What would he have liked? The food? The décor? The friendly service?"   
  
"All of that, AND the opportunity to rib me about my height? How could he resist?" she said   
with a smile. I nodded and took another bite of my food. "What was your life like?" she asked  
suddenly. "I mean, before you joined the X Files."   
  
I told her all about my life as an enlisted Marine and about my time with NYPD, talking about   
cases, coworkers, bosses: anything I thought was relevant or interesting. I also briefly   
mentioned the hardest case I had ever worked: the kidnapping and murder of my son. She asked   
numerous questions, and told me about her life as a Navy brat, her time in medical school and   
as an instructor at Quantico. She gave me a brief overview of her time on the X Files, but I   
could see it was still too painful to talk about in any real depth. After we were finished, we  
sat in silence.   
  
"We've been here talking two and a half hours," I said, looking at my watch.   
  
"Is that a problem?" she asked.   
  
"No, I was just surprised. We haven't talked for more than two and a half minutes at a time   
since we've been working together."   
  
"Maybe its just time that we got some things out on the table," she said.   
  
There was a cheer from the other end of the restaurant, and one of the servers started ringing   
a cowbell. "What was that all about?" Scully asked.   
  
"He must have made the limit," I said.   
  
"What?" I told her what Langly had said about the three margaritas. She let out a laugh. "Is  
that why you looked so amused when you hung up the phone?" she said.   
  
I watched the man, supported by his girlfriend, leave the restaurant, surrounded by his adoring  
buddies. "Would Mulder have tried that?" I asked her.   
  
"In a heartbeat," she said.   
  
I nodded and stood up. "I guess it's time to head back."   
  
Scully stood up, and I let her lead the way out the door.   
  
"Have a good night, guardaburros," our server called.   
  
"You too," Scully and I called back at the same time.  
  
Scully provided me with a blanket and pillow, and then she went into her bedroom and closed the  
door. I hoped that Scully was in as good a mood as she seemed to be. I knew it would come   
back to haunt her tomorrow when she had go back to work and make the preparations for Mulder's   
burial. I prayed that I wouldn't have another dream. What she needed was a good night's   
sleep.   
  
Too late, I realized as I was falling asleep that I was going to continue the dream. A man I   
didn't know was shoving a gun into my face I was shoving my gun into Mulder's face.   
  
"I got him!" he yelled (I yelled).   
  
"Good work Agent Doggett," Smoking Man said (Agent Spender said). "You've saved the world from  
a dangerous murderer," he continued.   
  
"You bastard! He's lying! He's kept me locked up here! He killed those people!" I yelled   
(Mulder yelled).   
  
He blinked. He lowered his gun just a bit (He seemed so sincere, could he be telling the   
truth?)   
  
"Finish him off, and get the rest of the doctors out," Smoking man said (Agent Spender said).   
  
"What? I was told I was here to apprehend a murderer, not to kill him," Agent Doggett said   
(I said.)  
  
"You misunderstood. You weren't brought here to prevent a murder," Smoking man said (Agent   
Spender said).   
  
Smoking man pulled a gun out of his coat and shot him (he shot me)! He fell to the ground (I   
fell), and I tried to stop the bleeding (Mulder placed his hands over the wound), when Smoking   
Man bashed me over the head and everything went dark (Agent Spender cold cocked Mulder with the  
butt of his pistol, and he fell off to the side. Agent Spender kicked me in the jaw, picked   
up a piece of glass, and stabbed me over and over. I put up my hands to protect myself, tried   
to fight away, to grab the gun, but it was hard to move, everything was so fuzzy, so dark...)   
I woke up strapped to a table. Agent Doggett's broken body was next to me. I winced.   
  
"Don't feel too guilty about him, Agent Mulder," Smoking Man said, as one of the doctors   
poured drops into my eyes. "He just saved your life."  
  
I woke up in a cold sweat. I grabbed my shoes, pulled them on, grabbed my coat, and went out   
the door. What is happening to me? I can't be... He can't be... I drove my car as fast as I   
could to the hotel. Why wouldn't I remember? I was there... Why wouldn't I remember being   
there? What else have I forgotten? I took the elevator up to the room and banged on the door.  
An agent I didn't know opened the door, and I shoved my ID in his face.   
  
"Agent John Doggett. I need to talk to Oracle right now."   
  
"But..."   
  
"Right now!!"   
  
"Agent Doggett? What's going on?" Skinner came over to me cautiously.   
  
"Something happened... Please, I just need to see her," I said.   
  
"It's fine," Oracle said.   
  
"Could we have some privacy, please?" I asked. The two agents left, with Skinner after them,   
looking at me curiously. "I..." I started.   
  
"I know. You don't have to say anything," she said, sitting on the edge of the bed.   
  
I collapsed in a chair. "What's wrong with me?" I asked.   
  
"Not a thing."   
  
"Why didn't I remember being there until now?"   
  
"They made you forget."   
  
"That's not possible."   
  
"It's happened to Agent Mulder before. They're light years ahead of the general market in   
plastic surgery. Believe me, it's possible."   
  
"When were you going to tell me?"   
  
"I didn't know for sure until you came in here just now with your thoughts screaming it. Your   
aura felt strange to me when we first met, but I couldn't tell why."   
  
I paused, and looked down at my shoes, my wrinkled pants, my barely buttoned shirt. "Who am   
I?" I asked.   
  
"Right now? You're Agent Doggett, with a few stray memories of Agent Mulder's. Who you'll be  
tomorrow is anybody's guess."   
  
"I mean, is it true? Is that who I was before? Is that where these memories are coming from?"  
  
"Yes."   
  
I nodded. "If that's true, why don't I remember anything else about Agent Mulder? And why do  
I remember everything about being John Doggett?"   
  
"Some of the doctors called it an etch and sketch. They take what's written, wipe it off, and   
put something new over it. The pieces are still there, you just have to reconnect them.   
Sometimes it can take days, sometimes it can take years, and sometimes it doesn't come back at   
all."   
  
"Can't you put me under? Force it out?"   
  
"With your track record? Ten minutes under, and six hours to recuperate? You won't get back  
all your memories before you're dead." I laughed bitterly. "The best thing to do is just keep  
an open mind. Keep an eye out for things that look familiar, things that Scully says, anything  
that jogs a memory. The important thing is to be aware. Your memories seem very determined to  
come out. Don't force, and the memories should come to you," she said.   
  
"And if they don't?"   
  
"If they don't, at least you aren't any worse off than you are now. And you're keeping an eye   
on Agent Scully, which is what Mulder would have wanted. I think that's why they put you in   
the position that they did. A last joke on Mulder." She paused, and said, "I'll work with you  
if you like. See if I can find any promising fragments for you to puzzle out yourself. It   
will take time, though."   
  
"Thank you," I said, forcing myself to stand up.   
  
"Hang in there," she called as I went out the door. The two agents pushed past me and went   
into the room.  
  
"What was that all about, Agent Doggett?" Skinner asked.   
  
"Bad dream. I just wanted to confirm that it didn't mean anything more than what I originally   
thought," I said.   
  
"Take a day off, Agent Doggett. I'll help Agent Scully out tomorrow," he said, entering the   
room and closing the door.   
  
I smirked to myself as I went to the elevator. Agent Spooky Mulder, huh? If word of that gets  
out, I'll never live it down. I just hope he's not as much of a paranoid delusional as I think  
he is. I pushed the button and sighed. I just hope he's as capable as Scully thinks he is,  
because I know that I can't handle this.  
********************************************************************************************  
I heard Doggett coming up the stairs. I pulled on my bathrobe and flung open the door.   
Doggett stopped and gaped. I realized that my robe was open a bit more than was proper, and I   
held it closed self consciously.   
  
"What happened to you?"   
  
"I couldn't sleep. I went out for some air," he said, brushing past me.   
  
"You had another dream," I said. By the way his shoulders tightened, I knew I was right.   
  
"Go back to bed, Agent Scully," he said as he took off his coat and laid it neatly on the table  
as he sat down on the couch.   
  
"What happened?" I said, coming over and standing next to him.   
  
"It's not something I'm ready to talk about. Not just yet," he said, meeting my eyes. His   
emotions were written plainly across his face, and everything screamed; Please understand, if   
it shook me up that badly, and I didn't even know Mulder, imagine what it could do to you.   
  
"I understand," I said.   
  
I went to the refrigerator, poured him some iced tea, and brought it out. He took the glass   
from me absentmindedly and took a sip.   
  
He licked his lips, chuckled, and said, "You read my mind."   
  
"Must be fate," I said as I sat down on the edge of the coffee table and watched him drink the   
glass of iced tea.   
  
"Thank you," he said, handing back the glass. There was a different quality to him, a genuine   
honesty in his voice and a shading to his eye that I hadn't seen before. Something Mulder had   
shown him had touched him. But what could have affected him so profoundly?   
  
"You're welcome," I said, taking the glass. I stood up, went and set the glass on the kitchen   
counter, and went toward the bedroom. Doggett was still sitting on the couch, hands clasped,   
arms resting lightly on his knees.   
  
"Good night, Agent Scully," he said, as he reached over and turned off the table lamp.   
  
"Good night," I said to the darkened room as I shut the bedroom door.  
  
I got ready quickly the next morning. Doggett was still asleep. I stood by the couch,   
uncertain of whether or not to wake him. I knew he was tired, but oh, God, I didn't want to   
make the funeral arrangements alone, and something about his demeanor last night told me that   
he would be good to bring along. Skinner's knock on the door spared me that decision.   
  
"Are you ready?" he asked.   
  
"Agent Doggett," I said, pointing to the figure on the couch.   
  
"I gave him the day off. After his behavior last night, he deserves it."   
  
"Last night?"   
  
"He came by the room, demanding to see Oracle. He was yelling at my agents, looked like he was  
going to fall asleep on his feet when he left. He'll be all right," he said, guiding me out   
the door.   
  
It was a silent drive to the cemetery. I felt that weight come again and settle in my stomach.  
The funeral director was very pleasant and compassionate. Doggett had the foresight to return   
the tombstone that Mulder had picked out. We also went out to visit the gravesite. It was a   
pleasant plot, not far from his mother's. I stood at the site, imagining the hole, the   
tombstone. What were you thinking when you stood here, Mulder? Were you frightened? Were you  
at peace? Did you choose for yourself, or did you think about the people who would visit you,   
what they would have wanted? Did you think about your family? Did you think about your   
friends? Did you think about me? I scheduled the burial for two weeks from today. I don't   
know why. No service, I know you wouldn't have wanted everyone making a fuss. I wonder who   
will come. Skinner, for sure. Doggett? He might, to support me. The Lone Gunmen? I went to  
his funeral. I watched it from 50 yards away with a telephoto lens... Oh, Mulder. I felt the  
lump rise in my throat again. I pictured him at the restaurant last night, smiling and   
laughing and playing with the stuffed burro and teasing me about my "short little legs" and   
joking with the waiter and drinking the three margaritas just so he could give me the coupon   
for the free dinner and we could laugh the next day about how he tripped over his own feet  
getting to the car and me and my short little legs had to drive him home. I felt the tears   
come, and I wiped them away. Skinner put his arm around my shoulders and guided me away.  
  
When we got back to my apartment, Doggett wasn't there. I called his place, no answer. Then I  
called the hotel room.   
  
Oracle answered the phone. "Yeah, he's here," she said between giggles. "We're sharing   
stories and playing Uno. I was kicking butt, until they stopped letting me deal."   
  
"Because you're a dirty rotten cheat!" I heard one of the agents yell in the background.   
  
"We'll be right there," I said, hanging up the phone.   
  
"Was he there?" Skinner asked.   
  
"Yeah," I said, taking the keys and walking out the door.   
  
When we got to the room, Doggett was just finishing up a story. "...and I told her, 'I just   
thought it was a pretty cool key chain.'" The agents laughed appreciatively as Oracle reached   
for the deck. "I told you, you're not dealing," Doggett said, taking the deck from her.   
  
"You, out," Skinner said, motioning the two agents outside.   
  
"Don't play cards with those two," one of the agents said, pointing at them.   
  
"Yeah, I dumped twenty bucks on those vultures," the other said, both of them laughing   
uproariously as they went outside and shut the door. Skinner and I sat down on one of the beds  
and stared at the two of them. "  
  
I wanted to go with you today, but when I woke up you were already gone," Doggett said, as he   
gathered up the cards and put them back in the box.   
  
"It's quite a turnaround from last night," I said.   
  
"I've been helping him out," Oracle said.   
  
"Besides, there's not much we can do until our suspect strikes again or Mulder's friends turn  
something up," Doggett said.   
  
"How are you doing?" I asked Oracle.   
  
"As well as can be expected. I know they're in a better place, and that helps a lot. My life   
can't just stop; I have work to do. After all, I'm not the one who died," she said.   
  
Just then, there was a commotion outside the room door. Skinner went over and opened the door   
with his gun drawn, then said with exasperation, "Let them in."   
  
The Gunmen came bounding in. "We have your suspect," Byers said, thrusting an envelope on us.  
  
"That's everything we could find on him," Langly said.   
  
I opened the folder and groaned, "I knew it."   
  
Skinner looked at the photo and growled, "Alex Krychek."   
  
"You're kidding. Xander? He was one of the most soft hearted people I ever met," Oracle said.  
  
"You said something had warped his personality," I said quietly.   
  
"That's an understatement," Skinner said in a low, dangerous voice.   
  
"What do you know about him?" Doggett asked.   
  
"His father was a cold war defector," Langly butted in.   
  
"Came over when he was three. He had talent, so as part of his father's payment to stay in the  
country they turned him over to the project when he was eight," he continued.   
  
"He apparently had an aptitude for influencing minds and incredible powers of regeneration,"   
Byers said.   
  
"The perfect candidate for making the perfect solider. Not only could he get access to   
sensitive material," Frohike started.   
  
"But he could take a hit and keep on coming," Langly finished.   
  
"Regeneration? That means..." I said.   
  
"He's probably regrown a new arm by now," Oracle said quietly.   
  
"He came and tried to warn me off this case," I said.   
  
"He had a good reason," Skinner said.   
  
"He attacked us three times," Oracle said, musingly.   
  
"Two times," Doggett said.   
  
"Three times. That was him on the plane," Oracle said.   
  
"What? It didn't look a thing like him," I said.   
  
"Influencing minds. Think about it. We had him in custody. So why didn't we turn him over to  
authorities when we got off the plane? We just forgot he was there," Oracle said.   
  
"She's right," Doggett said.   
  
"God damn it!" Skinner said, jumping to his feet and pacing.   
  
"Anything we can do?" Langly asked, as Skinner stormed around cussing to himself.   
  
"Watch our back while we figure out what he's up to," Doggett said.   
  
"Will do," Frohike said. They left, closing the door behind them.   
  
"I'm going back to my office to start making calls," Skinner said, leaving and muttering "Son   
of a bitch," as he slammed the door behind him.  
  
Weeks passed without anything eventful happening. Oracle had moved out of the hotel into  
my apartment and was looking for a job. She had apparently met a woman downtown that did   
horoscope readings for a living. The woman was looking for an assistant, and Oracle wanted to   
take the job.   
  
"Horoscope readings? You've got to be kidding," was Doggett's commentary on the subject.   
  
"I know. But one more tarot reader will attract less attention than a bona fide psychic. If I  
learn the trappings, I can use my gift and give people useful advice without raising suspicions,  
and get paid for it. It can't get much better than that," she insisted.   
  
Since Oracle had never been to school and therefore had no degree, learning only what she had   
managed to glean from the minds of others, I was inclined to agree with her. She had started   
keeping a journal, writing down what she remembered of the others so that they "wouldn't be   
forgotten."   
  
Doggett was still going to Oracle every day for "therapy", as they jokingly referred to it.   
Whatever they did, it seemed to be helping. He was more confident, more at ease, although I   
had the uneasy feeling from time to time that he was having a private joke at my expense.   
About what, I couldn't imagine. Oracle had spent quite a bit of time with me as well. She had  
become my favorite shopping buddy, and she did readings on the baby, giving me impressions on   
what he would be like or how he was doing (she seemed certain the baby was a he.) The only   
thing she did that annoyed me was her habit of calling Dr. Dunbar every other day. My long   
distance phone bills were a nightmare.   
  
Mulder's body had been buried, and after that I felt a sense of closure. Doggett went to the   
funeral, although he seemed terribly uncomfortable being there. I saw Skinner there, although I  
hadn't spoken to him there or since. He always seemed so preoccupied. As the days went by, I   
started to get more and more tense, like Krychek was waiting around every corner. Skinner   
apparently never came out of his office, preferring to stay close to the phone. Doggett's   
private joke seemed less and less like a joke and more and more of a burden. Oracle spent a   
lot of time away from us because of the general "bad feel."   
  
Then one day the bombshell hit. Doggett's, anyway. I was in the break room at headquarters   
after getting back from a long, exhausting and ultimately fruitless chase after reports of   
"forest demons" in Maine. Doggett didn't accompany me, he was busy filing paperwork from our   
last assignment, a cut and dried gangland dump in New Jersey that overflowed to us from Violent  
Crimes. X Files were in short supply these days. I set my briefcase down on the counter and   
hunted around under the sink for Styrofoam cups.   
  
I heard Doggett say from the doorway, "Agent Scully."   
  
I glanced up and gave a tired smile. "Hi. I can't wait to dump this paperwork, go home, and   
take a nice long bath," I said.   
  
"Agent Scully," he started again, coming into the room and standing behind me.   
  
"Don't worry, I won't make you write the report, I'll do it myself tomorrow."   
  
"Agent Scully, there's something I have to tell you," he said in a hesitant tone.   
  
"Whatever you did, just come out with it. Nothing you say can surprise me," I said.   
  
Doggett looked skeptical. "You might want to sit down," he suggested.   
  
"Why? This will only take a minute, right?" I asked, pouring myself a cup of coffee.   
  
"Yeah, but..."   
  
"Then go ahead. I'm listening," I said, taking a sip from my cup and turning to place the pot   
back on the warmer.   
  
Doggett took a deep breath, and let it out with a long sigh. "Scully, it's me," Mulder's voice  
said in my ear, full of gentle warmth and a bit of trepidation. I dropped the coffee cup.   
********************************************************************************************  
  
Scully yelped and jumped back onto my toes with a curse as the hot liquid splashed over her   
shoes. She shoved past me and sat on the counter next to the sink, yanking off her shoes and   
clumping them down on the counter as she grabbed a paper towel and tried to wash the coffee off  
of her feet with cool water. I went over, took a paper towel and tried to clean off her shoes.  
  
"Coffee doesn't come out of suede," she snarled.   
  
"I thought you used that spray stuff on your shoes to protect them," I said.   
  
She winced slightly at my voice. "I didn't have a chance. I just bought them," she said.   
  
"Then why didn't you wear an old pair?"   
  
Scully rounded on me. "Is this your sick idea of a joke?!?!" she demanded.   
  
"You think I would JOKE about something like this?!" I responded, anger mixed with hurt.   
  
"Is there a problem here, Agent Doggett?" Agent McDaniel (one of the agents from white-collar   
crimes I met in the elevator a few weeks ago) asked hesitantly, peeking around the doorframe.   
  
"Fine, Agent McDaniel. Agent Scully just spilled coffee on her shoes," I responded in   
Doggett's voice.   
  
Scully grabbed her shoes from my hand, slid off the counter, and stormed out of the room.   
  
"Damn," said Agent Napolitano (Agent McDaniel's partner). He was standing behind Agent   
McDaniel in the hall, grinning from ear to ear. "I haven't heard a row like that out of the   
Ice Queen since Spooky was still around," he continued.   
  
"She didn't burn her feet, did she?" Agent McDaniel asked.   
  
"She's fine. Excuse me," I said, working around Agent Napolitano. "I've got to go apologize   
to her about her shoes," I said, heading down the hall.   
  
Agent Napolitano imitated cracking a whip and started laughing.   
  
"That's the understatement of the year," I responded dryly.   
  
I made it to the end of the hall just as the elevator Agent Scully was in closed. I decided   
not to wait for the elevator and took the stairs down to the basement instead. The door to the  
office was still open. I took that as a good sign. Scully was standing next to my desk, arms   
crossed, with her profile toward me. I entered the office and shut the door.   
  
"Scully," I started in my own voice.   
  
"How could you?"   
  
"Scully, I..."   
  
"How could you let me think you were dead? You went to the funeral!"   
  
"I know..." "You went to your own god damn funeral!"   
  
"I didn't know, Scully! I didn't remember everything until just a few days ago."   
  
"But you at least had an idea." I sighed. God, she's going to turn this into a knock down   
drag out bitch fight. Just what we need.   
  
"How long have you known?" she pressed.   
  
"Scully, it wasn't..."   
  
"How long?"   
  
"Since that night we went to the Mexican restaurant." She snorted and nodded angrily. "But   
Scully, you're missing the point. I knew then that I was Mulder. But I didn't remember being   
Mulder. Oracle said my memory might come back only partly or not at all. I didn't want to say  
anything until I could prove it," I said, coming over and standing behind her. "Scully?" I   
said, putting my finger against her chin and turning her head.   
  
She turned, but didn't look up at me. Instead she wrapped her arms around the middle of my   
back and buried her face into my chest. My arms came up in a defense position, but then I let   
out the breath I had been holding and put one arm across her shoulders and the other across the  
small of her back, resting my chin on top of her head. I stood there, just enjoying the warmth  
of her, the smell of her.   
  
"Talk to me, Mulder," she murmured softly against me after awhile.   
  
"Hmm?"   
  
"Talk to me."   
  
"What should I say?"   
  
"Anything. Just so long as you talk."   
  
"You changed shampoos. You smell different than I remember."   
  
"Is that bad?"   
  
"No. Just different." I paused, then decided to go ahead and ask. "How's the baby doing?"   
  
Scully jumped, and then asked, "How did you know?"   
  
"Because I've been paying attention."   
  
"Does it show?"   
  
"No. I just knew because I know you."   
  
"The baby's fine. I hope it looks like you."   
  
"I think it would be cuter if it looks like you."   
  
"You think I wouldn't choose an attractive man to be the father of my baby?"   
  
"I think that that man's attractiveness is a little relative at this point." Scully didn't   
respond, and I started to absentmindedly massage her back.   
  
"Mmmm. That feels nice," she purred.   
  
"People are always telling me I'm good with my hands," I said in my most seductive voice.   
  
"Mulder," she groaned in her "I can't believe you said that" voice.   
  
I grinned and started tickling her side. She squawked and tried to pull away. Our legs got   
tangled together and we both fell squarely on our bottoms, laughing. I was momentarily   
distracted by how far her skirt had risen up her thigh, when I felt her fingers touching my   
jaw. She was examining Doggett's face as if she had never seen it before, tracing the edge of  
my jaw, pausing where my mole should have been before continuing on across my chin, up my cheek  
and across my brow. She examined my nose at great length, murmuring "Don't fidget" when I   
started to get restless. Now what? Is she going to get distracted every time I talk to her   
because I still have Doggett's face? Her fingers gently traced my lips, and she licked hers   
unconsciously. I didn't even try to suppress my amused grin. Her eyes flicked up to mine with  
irritation. When I saw the recognition, exasperation and affection in her eyes, I knew that my  
appearance would only be a minor problem.   
  
"All right?" I asked when she let her hand drop.   
  
"All right," she confirmed, eyeing me. She then shook her head and smiled. "You scared the   
crap out of me, Mulder."   
  
"Sorry, Scully." Just then, the phone rang. I untangled myself, stood up, took a moment to   
compose myself, and answered the phone. "This is John Doggett," I said, allowing myself to   
fall back into character. "Yes, sir. Agent Scully and I will be right up." I hung up the   
phone, lightly brushed the dust off my pants and straightened my jacket.   
  
Scully was standing and gaping at me. "It scares me how well you do that," she said.   
  
"Do what?" I asked, all Doggett's cool innocence. She shook her head, took the papers she was   
working on, and put them neatly in her briefcase. "You can't tell anyone, Scully," I said in   
my own voice, all seriousness. She looked up at me. "The fewer people that know, the safer   
we'll both be," I continued.   
  
"What about Skinner?"   
  
"Something's going on with him; something that's not sitting with me quite right. Until I know  
what it is, I don't feel comfortable bringing this up."   
  
"Don't you think you're being a little paranoid?"   
  
"Paranoia is my middle name."   
  
"True enough." She picked up her briefcase and walked toward the door.   
  
"Hey, Scully."   
  
"What?" she asked, turning around.   
  
"You've got dust on your butt."  
  
We rode up in the elevator. I chatted politely with the other agents who got in, and tried to  
put fantasies of Scully and I dropping down on the floor of the elevator and going for it in   
front of everyone out of my mind. No one would have thought twice if Mulder had done it, but   
the rumor mill would have been working overtime if Doggett had appeared the slightest bit   
randy. Damn undercover work. I managed to get into Doggett's frame of mind in the waiting   
room just before Skinner called us in. He looked jumpy, pacing as we sat down and then sitting  
behind his desk and playing with his pen.   
  
"How's your case work going?" he asked.   
  
"Well, sir, the forest demons turned out to be a wild goose chase, but our other cases seem to   
be going rather well," Scully said.   
  
"Good, good," he said, wiping his brow.   
  
"Agent Doggett, how are you doing?" he asked me.   
  
"Fine, sir. Here's the report on the Jersey murder," I said, sliding the report across his   
desk. Skinner grabbed it and thumbed through it rapidly, but seemed to be checking for  
something rather than reading it. He finished flipping through the file and set it down on his  
desk with a disappointed look on his face. "Is something wrong, sir?" I asked him.   
  
"No, no Agent Doggett. Everything seems to be in order. I'll let you know when the court date  
has been set so you or another agent assigned to the case can testify."   
  
"Yes, sir." After a pause, I asked, "Will that be all?"   
  
"Oh, yes. Dismissed." Scully and I both stood up and walked out the door.   
  
"What was that all about?" Scully asked me.   
  
"I'm not sure," I responded in Doggett's voice, just in case anyone was listening.   
  
"Agent Scully," Skinner called from the doorway. "Sorry, come back in. There's one more thing  
I have to ask you."   
  
"I'll see you downstairs," I said as I went to the elevator. As soon as the doors closed, the   
phone rang.   
  
"John Doggett," I answered. There was a lot of static, and I could barely make out a woman's   
voice on the other end. "Hold on, I'm in the elevator, I'll be out in just a minute." The   
elevator stopped at the second floor and I got off. "Hello?" I asked.   
  
"Stop them!" Oracle's voice came over the line frantically.   
  
"What?"   
  
"Krychek's got control of Skinner. He's kidnapping Scully. You've got to stop them!" I   
darted back for the elevator. "No, not the elevator! The stairs." I rushed for the   
staircase.   
  
"Which way?"   
  
"Down to the main level. Go outside, north east corner. You should see them coming out of the  
parking garage."   
  
I took the stairs down two at a time. I flew through the lines of tourists and out onto the   
terrace.   
  
"Fuck," I said as I saw Skinner's car pulling out. I took off as fast as my feet would carry   
me. "Scully!!!" I yelled. She looked out at me, and her face went pale. She tried to open   
the door, but couldn't. Skinner put his foot on the gas, rounded the corner, and was gone.   
"Where are they headed?" I yelled into the phone. There was nothing on the line but an "off   
the hook" tone.   
  
I bolted across the street, car breaks squealed, horns blared. I kept running, taking streets   
without thinking, heading for the astrology shop where Oracle worked. I burst through the   
front door, past startled customers waiting for a reading and into the reading room. The   
doorway between that room and the storeroom was wide open, with the owner lying in the doorway.  
She had been shot once in the head. I stepped over her body and into the storeroom. Oracle   
was lying on the floor, five perfectly round holes in her back causing rivers of blood on the   
floor. The receiver on the wall phone was swinging back and forth like a body in a noose,  
making a rhythmic bang against the wall.  
  
Oracle was miraculously still alive when the paramedics arrived, but the owner was   
pronounced dead at the scene. I rode with Oracle down to the hospital, where she was rushed   
into surgery. I sat around in the waiting room, feeling as lost as the day I discovered that   
Scully had cancer. I knew that Krychek was the one who shot Oracle. The bastard waited just   
long enough for us to get complacent, then made his move. If she died, it wouldn't be just her  
that I would lose. It would be any chance of finding Scully and Skinner alive. That thought   
echoed through my mind for the next four hours while Oracle was in surgery. They finally   
wheeled her out. She looked dead, but the doctors reassured me that she was very much alive.   
  
"Are you her father?" one of them asked me.   
  
"No, just a friend. She doesn't have any family," I explained.   
  
I watched through the critical care window. One of the nurses tried to get rid of me, but I   
wasn't about to give her the satisfaction. I snuck into the room when no one was around and   
knelt beside her bed.   
  
"Don't give up on me," I whispered to her. "We have to find Scully and Skinner so we can stick  
it to Krychek." I paused and looked at the machines, the monitors. She looked even more like   
a child than usual, lying on that bed. But I knew she was a vibrant, independent woman inside   
that shell. She can't die, she still has everything in front of her. "Don't give up, you hear  
me?"   
  
(I hear you.) Oracle's voice came into my mind, tired, kind but impatient. (Now get out of   
here and let me get some rest. I can't think with you yammering all the time.)  
  
I grinned. You're all right. We'll find them, don't you worry.   
  
(Yeah, big bad Mulder and his sidekick Kid come riding in on their trusty steed Taurus and blow  
the competition away with their dry wit and enigmatic presence. If that doesn't work, maybe   
you can smile him to death. Who knows, the shock of seeing a grin on Doggett's face might   
actually kill him.)  
  
You're such an optimist.   
  
(GET LOST.)  
  
I left.  
  
Oracle woke up two days later. The doctor said he had never seen such a miraculous   
recovery. I asked if I could see her and got the go ahead. Oracle was sitting up, finishing   
the last bit of a giant mug of water.   
  
"My, we are thirsty today," the nurse said, refilling the jug. She noticed me in the doorway   
and said jokingly, "I'll be back in an hour to refill it."   
  
"Har, har," Oracle said as she left.   
  
I pulled up a chair and sat. "How many of those have you had?"   
  
"One an hour's not a bad estimate," she said, putting the jug down on the tray next to her bed.  
"I need the fluids to help my body repair. It helps the life force flow better, for some   
reason. It would work better if I was immersed in water, instead of just drinking it, but they  
won't let me take a bath," she continued. "Now, let's see what we can dredge up, shall we?"   
she said.   
  
"Are you sure? I mean, I don't want to push you," I said.   
  
"Liar," she said calmly, with a hint of mischief in her eyes. "Here, give me your hands," she   
said, holding hers out palms up.   
  
"Shouldn't it be the other way? During the sessions you always held your hands out palms   
down," I said.   
  
"That's the life giving position. I'm receiving this time," she said. I hesitated. "I won't   
hurt you, I promise. If it's too much of a drain on you, we'll stop," she said. I took her   
hands, and she closed her eyes and went under. Her skin was very pale, and her breathing   
became much shallower. I started to worry, but she gave my hands a slight squeeze to reassure  
me. "He's got Scully and Skinner. Scully is tied up to a pole supporting the roof. Not the   
warehouse, though. Just someplace he knows," she said.   
  
"Where?"   
  
"Tables, chairs stacked along the walls. Dining room, light strings, paper snowflakes hanging   
from the ceiling. Muted tones, like a hotel or convention center."   
  
"Windows?"   
  
"Large, plate glass, like there's a view outside."   
  
"What do you see?"   
  
"Nothing, it's dark."   
  
"Any logos? Motifs?"   
  
"No. Krychek is talking to himself, can't hear him."   
  
"Where's Skinner?"   
  
"On the floor in the office around the corner. He's got a bright rash all over his body.   
Krychek didn't even bother to tie him up, he's so weak." She hissed, and said, "He's drawing   
off of Skinner, keeping him weak. He must have given him blood."   
  
"Is he drawing off of Scully?"   
  
"No. He doesn't want to hurt her, he's only after the baby, I think."   
  
"Why?"   
  
"Don't know." She then gasped and said, "He's got your Smoking Man."   
  
"Where?"   
  
"In the kitchen. He beat him over the head with a wrench, didn't quite finish him off, but   
he'll die anyway, nothing can stop it now. Now Krychek's going over to the window, and looking  
out, like he expects something."   
  
"Can you see anything?"   
  
"Outlines of trees, the stars."   
  
"What kind of trees?"   
  
"Mountain trees. Pine, I think." Then her breathing slowed even more. I let go of her hands   
and reached over to shake her. Then her eyes opened. "Stars," she said.   
  
"What?" "Stars. That's why he chose that place. Something like rising or floating..."   
  
"Ascending? Ascending to the stars?"   
  
"I guess so."   
  
I sat back in my chair with a thump. "Thank you," I said, standing up.   
  
"I thought we were doing this together," she said in a hurt tone.   
  
"I know where they are. If I can catch him by surprise, I might be able to save them," I   
responded excitedly. She crossed her arms and looked at me. "Oracle, I'm sorry, but I can't   
wait here and take a chance that something might happen to them."   
  
She sighed and said, "At least tell me where you're going. That way if something happens, I   
can send a team after you."   
  
"Skyland mountain."   
  
"All right."   
  
"Take care," I said, leaving the room.   
  
(Whatever), her voice grumbled in my mind.  
********************************************************************************  
  
After Mulder left, I neatly pulled the IV out of my arm and stood up. If he thinks after all   
this time I'm going to sit by and let him and Scully and Skinner get killed like the rest of my  
family, he's smoking some serious crack. I could feel the stitches straining. They'll   
probably tear right out, but I don't care. I slipped into the bathroom, found my lovely   
bloody clothes, and changed. I held the nurse's mind so she didn't see me, and walked out the   
front door. I had lifted some money out of Mulder's wallet when he was there. I wasn't   
stupid; I knew he would ditch me. I took the bus back to FBI headquarters, broke into Scully's  
car, and hotwired it. Thank god one of the security guards knew how to do that, or else I   
would have been screwed. I held his mind, drove the car right past him, and headed out for   
Skyland mountain. Hold on, everybody. I'm coming.  
**************************************************************************************  
  
I rested my head against the post and watched Krychek pace around the room. I recognized the   
route to Skyland mountain as soon as we got off the interstate. As soon as I saw Mulder rush   
out of the FBI building and yell my name, I tried to open the door. Finding it locked, I   
pulled my gun on Skinner and demanded he stop the car.   
  
"It's not my choice, Scully," he said, opening his shirt and showing me the rash. My throat   
tightened. The nanobodies in Skinner's blood had reactivated. "He said he'd already killed   
Oracle and if I didn't bring you, he'd kill me and Agent Mulder, leaving you defenseless   
anyway. What was I supposed to do?" he said plaintively.   
  
I nodded sympathetically. Then it hit me. "Wait, you know about Mulder?" I asked.   
  
"Krychek let it slip. I don't know anything other than he's alive. I had the crazy idea that   
Doggett was Mulder, but the handwriting's different." That's why he checked the folder. He   
paused and looked at me. "You've seen Mulder? You've talked to him?"   
  
"Yes. He knew there was something off about you, that's why he didn't talk to you directly."   
  
Skinner snorted. "Smart man. I just pray to God he knows what Krychek's up to and is able to   
prevent it."   
  
I looked out the window. "I'm sure he can figure it out."  
  
So that's how I ended up at the ski lodge at Skyland Mountain, tied to a post in the   
dining room. Krychek stopped his muttering and seated himself on the edge of the table near   
me.   
  
"That's what I like about you, Scully. No fuss. No bribe attempts. Just accepting of   
whatever happens."   
  
"You won't get away with this," I responded.   
  
"No? Who's going to save you? Doggett? Mulder? You think they can stop me? After knowing   
what you know about my kind, you think anyone can stop me?" He paused and watched for my   
reaction. When there was none, he said, "Oracle's dead, you know." I looked up. "I killed   
her myself."   
  
"So now you're going to gloat?"   
  
"Self preservation, Scully. If she knew what I had planned, she'd never let me go through with  
it. She could intimidate with the best of them, but when it comes right down to it she didn't   
have the balls to make the hard choices."   
  
"So, you were lying about her."   
  
"She was dangerous, Scully. If you think she didn't spend every waking moment of the day   
manipulating people, you're kidding yourself."   
  
"You admire her," I said with dawning awareness.   
  
"She taught me everything she knew." I paused, questions burning in my mind. "Fire away,   
Scully. I'm curious," Krychek said.   
  
"Why me and Skinner?"   
  
"Skinner was just convenient. A source of information, a way to keep you on a leash. You, I   
could care less about. It's the kid, Scully."   
  
"What about my baby?"   
  
"It's Mulder's."   
  
"I don't understand. Why is that important?"   
Krychek threw back his head and howled with laughter. "You never stopped to wonder how he   
reached his conclusions? How he could profile criminals so accurately? Why the alien artifact  
stimulated psychic powers in his brain and no one else's? He's one of us, Scully. Him and his  
sister. His father's partners knew his child had powers and forced him to hand the child over.  
The gift was so rare that they never dreamed both the Mulder children were gifted," Krychek   
said with a giggle.   
  
"You're not at all worried that Mulder will use his powers on you?" I asked.   
  
"He doesn't know he has them. Therefore, they don't exist. But the baby, the baby has them.  
I can feel them. Once I have the baby, my work will be done." He stood up and went to the   
doorway. "Good night, Agent Scully," he said, turning off the light behind him.  
  
I awoke to the sound of a car pulling into the parking lot. I craned my neck, trying to   
see. The figure picked the lock to the front door and entered silently. It crept over to me   
quietly and started to pick the handcuffs.   
  
"Hang on. I'll have you out in a minute, Scully," Mulder whispered.   
  
"Skinner's down the hall," I whispered back.   
  
"I know. What did he want with you?"   
  
"The baby. He said it was a psychic, like him."   
  
"That means he was planning on killing it after it was born." The handcuffs came apart, and   
Mulder put his hand on my knee. "Stay here. I'll go get Skinner," he whispered. His   
silhouette then crept around to the doorway and out into the hall. For several tense minutes,   
there was nothing but silence. Then a door banged open down the hall.   
  
"Mulder?" Krychek's voice called. "Mulder, I know you're here." Silence. "Mulder, you don't   
know what you're doing. I never meant to hurt your child. I wanted to keep it safe, raise it   
to use its powers, hide it from them. I didn't kill the others, Mulder. It was the aliens   
that did that. I wanted to punish them, to make them suffer for what they did to my kind, my   
family. Smoking Man, he helped them, he had to pay along with the rest of them. Mulder?" The  
voice came closer and closer down the hall. "Mulder?" I saw Krychek's silhouette enter the   
room. Then he was knocked flat by someone pouncing on him. "Nice trick, Mulder," he said.   
  
There was a flash, and Mulder was thrown up against the wall. Krychek flipped on the lights   
with one hand while holding Mulder by the throat with the other. "I'll be damned," Krychek   
said with a laugh when he saw his face. "No wonder I didn't start sensing you until a few   
weeks ago." I started creeping forward. "Don't even think about it, Scully," he said from   
behind me. I turned, and saw that he now had Mulder pinned against a wall behind me. I   
blinked and stood frozen in the doorway, when my legs were kicked out from under me. I banged   
my head against the floor. "I thought you knew about pushing," Krychek said mockingly. He was  
still in the first spot I had seen him. I lunged for him, and he just calmly backhanded me   
across the face, dropping me to the floor.   
  
"Let him go," a cool voice said from behind me. I glanced up. Oracle was standing in the   
doorway to the ski lodge, wearing her usual clothes and a small smirk. Krychek was stunned   
speechless. In a blink, she was across the room, stiff arming Krychek in the neck. He fell to  
the floor, gasping for air, and releasing Mulder on the way down.   
  
"You don't know what you're doing," he wheezed.   
  
"Oh, I know now you didn't kill the others, but two wrongs don't make a right. Even if you   
kill them all, it won't bring the others back. And wanting the baby for yourself is   
inexcusable," Oracle said. She glanced up at us. "Get out of here. This is between me and   
him now." Mulder and I picked up Skinner from against the wall where Mulder had left him   
slumping while he attacked Krychek. We helped him out, keeping an eye on the two combatants.   
  
"You need help," Mulder insisted.   
  
"Not your fight anymore, Mulder. Take care of the baby. You'll both make terrific parents,"   
she said, with a genuine smile. She then turned back to Krychek as we went out dragging   
Skinner.   
  
We put Skinner into the back seat, and I was about to sit down next to him when Mulder gasped,   
"Scully, look." I looked up to where he was pointing. The largest spaceship I had ever seen,   
even larger than the one in Antarctica, was settling into position over the ski lodge.   
  
"We have to get out of here," Mulder said, jumping into the driver's seat.   
  
"We can't leave them," I insisted, leaning into the car to yell at Mulder better.   
  
(Scully, stop stalling, get in the car, and get the fuck out of here. Tell Mulder to go talk   
to Dr. Dunbar. He'll know what I mean.) I heard Oracle's voice, jumped into the car without   
hesitation, and said, "Floor it."   
  
Mulder took off in a rush of squealing tires. I was flung against the back seat, and I   
managed to reach out, grab the wildly swinging door, and close it. Mulder took on the curves   
at 90 to nothing. Skinner started to shake the same way Oracle had done.   
  
"The link's severing," I said to Mulder. He glanced in the mirror. "Watch the road!" I   
screamed.   
  
We went around one curve, and I could see the lodge up at the top of the mountain, bathed in a   
beam of light from the spaceship. Skinner let out a violent, torturous yell, and I heard   
Oracle and Krychek screaming incoherently in my head at the same time. The ski lodge exploded,  
and the fireball rose up in a column to the heavens and consumed the spaceship. There was a   
bright green flash, and a wave of energy came out of it like ripples in a pond, slamming into   
the car. Mulder put on the brakes, causing the car to skid. It scraped along the edge of the   
barrier separating the road from the edge of the cliff, and came to a stop. We were both   
breathing hard.   
  
"Are you all right? Mulder?" I asked.   
  
He managed a nod. Skinner was lying across the back seat with his head in my lap, breathing  
deeply and evenly. I turned on the overhead light, just as Mulder got out of the car and   
stared behind us. Skinner's rash was gone.   
  
"Scully," Mulder called, and I got out of the car and looked. There was no sign of the   
spaceship or the lodge. We both stood staring at the cliff, feeling our own grief.   
  
"We need to get Skinner to a hospital. Come on, Mulder," I said, holding onto his arm and   
guiding him away.   
  
Once we got to the hospital and got Skinner inside, Mulder turned to me. "I need to go   
away for a little while, Scully. There are questions I need to find the answers to," he said.  
  
"Oracle told me to tell you to talk to Dr. Dunbar. She said you would know what she meant," I   
said.   
  
"Yeah, I think so. Will you be all right?" he asked me. I looked into his eyes. I missed   
the hazel color; Doggett's blue just seemed too sterile.   
  
"Yes," I said.   
  
"Thanks, Scully," he said.   
  
He went back to the car, promised to send my mother to pick us up once Skinner was better, and   
drove away. Skinner was released within a few hours with a perfect bill of health.   
"Exhaustion", was what the doctors said. True to his word, my mother showed up and drove us   
back to our respective apartments. Skinner cursed when he realized that he still needed to   
replace his sliding glass door. I went back to my apartment, feeling that same pit in my   
stomach, but also feeling hope. If bloodsucking doctors, five bullet holes, and over 50 years   
of experimentation hadn't killed Oracle, who was to say that an explosion would? I wished that  
I had gotten to know her as well as Mulder had. It was true, she had lived at my apartment,   
but we were both preoccupied with our own agendas most of the time, even when shopping   
together.   
  
Two weeks passed. Skinner went back to his office, and I went back to the basement. I told   
everyone that Doggett had decided to take some personal time. Then, one day, I went into my   
office and a familiar figure was standing in front of the filing cabinet with his back toward   
me. I was about to greet him as Doggett, when I noticed the brown hair and the jacket and tie  
flung carelessly over the back of his desk chair.   
  
"Morning, Scully," he said, cheerfully, closing the filing cabinet.   
  
I ran forward and embraced him. It was Mulder. I mean, it was really Mulder. Brown hair,   
hazel eyes that changed color with the light, long legs, fit body, devil may care attitude...   
Mulder. So this is what Oracle meant when she sent Mulder to Dunbar. He must know the doctors  
who perform the identity switches, or used to be one of them. I breathed Mulder in. I missed   
that smell. He found the whole thing very amusing. I didn't know whether to kiss him or slap   
him.   
  
"What?" I finally said with exasperation.   
  
"I've been hanging around here for the past two days, Scully," he said, in a voice mixed with   
equal parts mischief and apology.   
  
"I'm not that unobservant," I protested.   
  
"'Fraid you are, Scully. I almost went over and waved my hand in front of your face to make   
sure you were still alive."   
  
I gave him the evil eye. True to form, it didn't perturb him in the slightest.   
  
"What were you doing? Someone could have recognized you," I scolded.   
  
"I was switching Doggett's name with mine on the DNA tests, autopsy reports, death certificate   
and fingerprint files. I also had the name on the tombstone changed. He doesn't have any   
family, so I didn't think anyone would complain. I also had myself reassigned to the X Files.  
I was planning on going upstairs and telling Skinner as soon as I finished my breakfast," he   
said, indicating a bowl with what I assumed was soggy cocoa puffs and curdled milk in a past   
life. In its present incarnation, it had taken on the appearance of dark brown cottage cheese.  
To say I was revolted would be putting it mildly.   
  
"You're not really going to eat that," I said. Mulder gave me his "Think again" look and   
picked up the bowl. He dug through his bottom drawer and came up with a fork. It had   
mysterious bits of food still stuck on it.   
  
"Do you even know what that is?" I asked, indicating the food spots.   
  
"Burrito, I think. Oracle was using it to stab something that came out of the microwave."   
  
"Then that fork hasn't been washed in over two weeks."   
  
"It hasn't decomposed yet."   
  
He shoveled up a big forkful of the bowl sludge and took a bite. I looked around for the   
garbage can in case one or both of us decided we needed it. Mulder actually did make it   
through the "meal" without getting sick. I almost didn't. He licked out the inside of the   
bowl and put it aside.   
  
"Let's go," he said, taking his coat.   
  
We went to the elevator and pressed the button for the floor where Skinner's office was.   
Mulder was leaning over me. His breath still smelled like bowl goo. He noticed my revulsion   
and started hunting around in my suit jacket pockets. I was about to protest, when he came out  
with my tic tac box. He popped a couple into his mouth, closed the box, and stuck it back in   
my pocket. I gave him my "you could have asked" look. He shrugged. I found myself admiring   
him. He had forgotten his tie, and his shirt was open just the tiniest bit. He was one of the  
few men I had ever seen who was attractive when he slouched. I pictured him in his old jeans   
that were almost threadbare in the seat, and felt my face flush. He noticed me checking him   
out, and his eyebrows went up the tiniest bit. "Here? Now?" his expression said. I was   
embarrassed, and turned away. He was still watching me. Well, just as long as you don't   
mind... He didn't mind. We were still kissing when the elevator arrived at the floor. There   
was a gaggle of agents waiting to board the elevator. Everyone in the hall stopped to gawk at   
Mulder and Scully making out in the elevator, with Scully's hands up his shirt and Mulder's   
tongue down her throat. The fact that Mulder was supposed to be dead didn't make us any more   
unobtrusive. I removed Mulder's hands from my ass and squeezed past the throng of agents.   
Mulder followed me, tucking in his shirt.   
  
"Going down?" Mulder said to the group pleasantly.   
  
Skinner had come out of his office to see why the hall had suddenly gone dead.   
  
"Agent Mulder, good to see you again," he said, shaking his hand.   
  
"Thank you, sir," he said, allowing Skinner to usher us into his office.   
  
"Back to work, people," Skinner said, shutting the door.  
***************************************************************************************  
Word got around fast that Mulder was indeed back from the dead and returned to the X   
Files. Skinner broke the news that Agent Doggett had been killed in the line of duty. Mulder   
went out of his way to be kind to old friends of Doggett's. Scully had the baby right on   
schedule, a boy named William. He's already showing powers, like predicting when someone is   
at the door and when Mommy or Daddy is going to wash Drooly (his bear.) Marriage hasn't really  
been discussed, but neither agent seems opposed to the possibility. The Gunmen were thrilled   
at Mulder's return, and have been enlisted as babysitters on several occasions. As for me, I   
returned Mulder's Georgetown shirt in an unmarked package tied with string (which nearly caused  
Mulder and Scully a heart attack, couldn't tell if it was because I was alive or because it   
looked like a pipe bomb) and settled down in Omega with a tarot reading practice and a certain   
young doctor named Matthew Dunbar.   
  



End file.
